Way Down We Go
by LeathernLaces
Summary: Staring down the barrel of what will without a doubt be a long and bloody war, Gavin is forced to make a difficult decision. He's not willing to give the lives of the innocent at his outpost to Negan's war. Beth works closely alongside him to see that the Saviors castoffs are not forgotten - that they have their best chance at a life. Eventual Bethyl - Fix It Fic
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

I have wanted to write a Bethyl fic for a very long time, but I never had any concrete ideas that I felt happy with or that I absolutely needed to write. I've always loved the idea of bringing back Beth, but was never sure how to do it. Sometime shortly after Season 8a began to air this came to me. I have a special spot in my heart for some of the Saviors, namely Gavin and Dwight whom I hope to feature prominently there (if they had never introduced Gavin, I would have never started writing this!) and for some reason introducing Beth back to the world as a Savior felt like the right way to go about it. Now it's important to note right away, Gavin will be a 'good guy' in my story. He is arguably one of the most human of Negan's group, I feel like if Rick were to ever have made a deal with the group at some point Gavin would have been the only one willing to listen and talk sense. Thinking back to the episode where Benjamin is shot, and the aftermath, Gavin seems so incredibly human to me. He doesn't feel like a heartless monster, not like so many of the Saviors are shown to be. I am really playing that up here - my personal views on the character.

Having survived Grady, Beth is lost. She is mentally, maybe even spiritually broken. She remembers nothing of the time before she woken up with a bullet wound to the head. Those charged with her care did not give her the truth, they tailored it to suit their needs. Ultimately the Grady crew have to leave the city and are found by the Saviors. For all intensive purposes now Beth is a Savior. Her character is in a very dark place right now, which I know is not everyone's cup of tea but I loved the idea of writing a journey from darkness back into the light (if that is even possible - who knows!) If themes of depression, sadness, self-loathing, suicidal ideation trigger you or make you uncomfortable this may not be the story for you. I will try to preface chapters that are particularly heavy as a heads up!

This story is not beta'd. That being said, any mistakes are my own.

The title taken from Kaelo's song of the same name, _Way Down We Go._

* * *

"Did anyone see you?"

Beth rolls her eyes, letting out an indignant sigh. "No one ever sees me. That's why you send me."

There's a chuckle from across the room, which is instantly silenced when Gavin turns his attention toward the offender. He doesn't like it when she gets cocky like that, and it also isn't the time or place for it so that doesn't help much, either. "They cleared out an entire outpost. They killed everyone inside. They wont hesitate for half a second if they catch you skulking around."

"Yeah, and you used up all your luck on the first headshot." This time Beth's eyes only narrow. Mac. Hunter, occasional run partner, part time child wrangler, is making a pathetic excuse for a joke.

Gavin rubs at his temple and slumps back into his chair. "Children-" It's a warning. Unlike some people she still possesses a certain level of grace. Of tact. She'll just trip his ass on the way out, or hit him extra hard when they're sparring alter tonight.

"It's only a matter of time before they show up on our doorstep. We all know that. There's no white flag we can wave – they will come in guns blazing and it's not going to be soldiers that they kill. It's going to be expectant mothers, elderly," Gavin's tone darkens with each word. "- "-children. They don't know what's here – why would they hesitate?"

Children.

She can see some of them through the window. They're out in the courtyard having lunch. It's their break before classes and training. Beth knows each of them by name, she spends enough time with them so she should.

"No one's arguing that. No one doubts that they wont cut us down just as soon as look at us. What makes you think they're going to take in a whole group?"

Mac is nervous. Weary. For the last few weeks Gavin has grown increasingly more on edge. They all have. Nothing quite brings down morale as a leader at unease.

"They don't know what we have here. For all they know, we could be sitting on a stockpile of weapons just waiting to be rolled out to the Sanctuary. Take out the outposts, cripple us. Take our weapons, our supplies, our people. Whoever they are – they aren't stupid. Not anymore." Beth adds quietly.

"They all want to kill us and you want us to just waltz up to the gates and ask them to what – hold onto the kids while we go and fight t heir people? Come on, Bird. You aren't seriously considering this." She doesn't need to tear her eyes away from the window to know that Mac's looking at her expectantly, like the dogs do when they're waiting on food or praise. "One or two people are a hell of a lot easier to move than what, a dozen? Most of those are children who can't even hold a gun."

She can't blame him. She doesn't. The whining is annoying but no one wants to die sooner than is necessary. For now, Beth decides to ignore him. "Alexandria will be the first place he would look if he got wind of this. Rick doesn't sound stable – I don't want the kids there."

"So that leaves us with what, the King and the Widow?"

Beth nodded, turning around from the window with her arms crossed over her chest. "Gregory isn't in charge anymore. He doesn't have sway there, he'd do whatever we told him to but if the people wont listen to him it doesn't matter. He's useless to us now."

"What do we know about the Widow?"

All she can manage is a shrug. That she's a widow. Negan killed her husband, for all intensive purposes she's taken over Hilltop. They don't know much about her. The Hilltop isn't their colony to gather from, anyways.

"The King is our best bet. They have the space and the supplies. He's going to be the most reasonable out of the three." Gavin adds, pinching the bridge of his nose.

She wouldn't know, but she does know that every time they are scheduled to run a pick up Gavin is there, as is the King. Gavin she can trust. He wouldn't be suggesting it otherwise. When Negan had given him an outpost, he had taken it seriously. They weren't just Negan's people, they were his, too. They were his responsibility.

Mac let out a low grunt from his seat. Muttering something along the lines of "maybe before dumbass killed one of his people."

Beth's eyes are immediately drawn to Gavin. Mac didn't need to get into specifics for her to know exactly what dumbass he was talking about, and who the aforementioned dead happened to be. No one was ever going to forget the day that Gavin had made Jared walk back. When he'd gotten back after dark a small crowd had been waiting by the gates, stupid smiles on their faces while Jared banged against the metal and demanded to be let the fuck in.

An innocent had died because of him. One of the King's people, a young kid. Gavin said he'd probably been around her age – maybe younger ( not that anyone has any clue how old she actually is) He'd gotten shot, died from his wounds. All because of Jared.

She'd never seen him like that before. Upset, he'd been on the verge of tears telling her about it. After she's stared him down long enough to make him uncomfortable with the silence. Everyone tells her things in the end. She's got a way of dragging it out of them without so much as opening her mouth.

"Okay," Mac leans forward on the edge of his seat. "You do realize that this is a suicide run, right? Say we get everyone out of here safely, if Negan ever finds out-"

Beth's jaw sets. There it is. The fear, the hesitance. "That's why I'm going. Everyone coming with us made that choice."

"To die?"

Yes. Beth had laid it out for all of them, the adults, the ones pulling this whole thing off. The children were the most important part, they were just there to be act as bodyguards. Meat shields. The children were the only thing that mattered.

"If it comes down to it, I tell Negan it was my idea."

Silence falls over the room. Gavin doesn't give her a surprised look the way Mac does. Mac looks like she'd just slapped him across the face. She had already had this talk with Gavin. The outpost needs someone like him in charge. It's the only shot they have at surviving this. He can't take the fall for this.

She's nobody, nothing. There's no past, and she knows she's got no future. She'd been on borrowed time since she had woken up in that hospital. If she can do one thing, one good thing, it's gonna be this. She'll take the fall. Gavin will pin it on her because she just about begged him to. She'll go to the cells or, more realistically, she'll get re-acquainted with Lucille. It's not how she would want to go out if she had to choose, but that doesn't matter. She'll die, the world will keep turning. What's she got to live for, anyways?

"Fuck, Bird." Mac shakes his head, dragging his hand back over his marine-cut hair. "You know I've got your back," and he's not at all happy about that, but he doesn't need to be. She needs him out there with her. He's a good shot, if something happens they need all the extra bodies Gavin can spare. "We really doing this?"

Both she and Mac turn to look towards Gavin. All he does is give them a small nod. He had been waiting for this day since it all started, long before she ever got to the outpost. This was a reality that Gavin had accepted some time ago, he wasn't about to back down now.

She should be planning, prepping. Making sure her gear is packed, her weapons are cleaned, there's a whole list of shit she should be doing. So it's a bit baffling that she's sitting in front of a big old TV, surrounded by children (and a few teenagers) of various ages watching an old Disney movie, Hercules.

This is one of her favourites. She's seen them all by now, that's what happens when you take the babysitting detail and the runners know to pick up ever VHS and DVD they come across. There's children slumped against her on either side. One, a little boy named Jacob is passed out, and on her other side a girl just barely clinging to consciousness. A few others are sprawled out on the floor on top of sleeping bags and blankets. Beth could mute it and repeat the entire movie off by heart, but there's some scenes that just demand her attention. On the screen, a young Hercules is confessing something heartbreaking to his parents. That he doesn't feel as if he belongs there – that he's supposed to be some place else. Then he starts to sing.

It's the song that does it.

Everytime she hears it, feels like every word is a punch to the chest.

I have often dreamed of a far-off place  
Where a great, warm welcome will be waiting for me  
Where the crowds will cheer when they see my face  
And a voice keeps saying, this is where I'm meant to be

The first time that she had ever heard it, she'd needed to excuse herself. The tears had come uninvited, catching her off guard. In a million years she never would have thought that she would identify with a cartoon character and yet. Not that she's a god, there's absolutely nothing special about her. There's no adoptive parents hiding some big dramatic truth – there's no alternative origin story. There's no one, nothing waiting for her outside the walls. It's ridiculous is what it is.

It's a kid's movie, she's a grown ass woman (at least, they think she is) but it never ceases to amaze her how wrapped up she gets in the story. In that goddamn song. Some days Go The Distance feels more like advice than simple lyrics.

There was no amulet around her neck. She had been hurt, someone had tried to take her strength away – take her life. She had been left for dead, unwanted. She hadn't been found by a loving family. Instead, she had been brought into an environment of hate and fear. Once or twice she heard her caretakers lament 'We're wasting supplies on her'

Sometimes she wishes they'd done it. Killed her like they so obviously had wanted to.

Beth had dared to dream that there was something else out there. Some far-off place where a great warm welcome would be waiting for her just like it said in the song. Some days, she still lets herself slip into the fantasy that maybe, maybe it could happen.

A pad of paper impedes her view, and Beth's lips thin ready to tell off whoever is cutting of her line of sight from the TV until she sees what's being held in front of her. It's not a blank sheet, it's covered in heavy lines and bold colors. Her eyes drift upwards towards the culprit, who is standing there expectantly with a look on her face that is all but demanding Beth give her every scrap of attention that she can manage.

Haley was another Sanctuary castoff. Dumped by her asshole half-brother who claimed he couldn't take care of her, she was too difficult. Haley helps with the kids, sometimes with the gardening. Lately she's been going out on simple runs with Beth after she'd shown an interest in it. When she isn't child rearing or getting her hands dirty, she is curled up with a sketchbook. She draws. Like, a lot. She can't really write, at least she claims that she can't. She does the line-art and one of her friends provides the words.

Her latest thing has been illustrating the goings on at the outpost, daily events, stories she's heard from the people who actually leave the walls. They're all carefully drawn characters. She's recording their history, because some day maybe someone will wanna know what was there – who they were. So she draws.

The current page depicts movie night. Specifically, last week when they'd all gotten stale Pop-Tarts as a treat. It's a rare page filled with smiling and happiness. Beth can find herself immediately. She's the one spot of darkness in the picture. From head to toe she's wearing varying shades of black and grey. The only real spot of colour is her hair which trickles down her back. She had just gotten back from a Code Orange, a shitty a one; but it was movie night. Gavin had already been debriefed and she needed an escape. Hauling herself off to bed was just looking for trouble. Being alone was always a terrible idea. So instead, she'd snuck into movie night and watched quietly from the back of the room.

A slip of paper falls onto the page. Running low on batteries.

Beth frowns and holds the pad back out. Haley, as if worried that she had somehow missed the note entirely pulls back short cropped brown hair and taps on her ear. On that little bit of black plastic.

"I know. Dwight's checking around the market at Sanctuary. Lu is going out tomorrow, she's got some ideas on where we might find some." Haley rolls her eyes as if Beth had just told her they were never going to get her new batteries for her hearing aid ever again. Which is a bit dramatic, but she's a teenager so it's to be expected, she supposes. "This is good." Beth nods towards the pad that Haley's now clutching protectively against her chest. As it always does, the praise turns her frown right upside down instantly.

Now that she's pleased, she retreats back to the corner where she's set herself up with an oil lamp and a pillow, and Beth finally gets to look back at the screen.

The song's over, but whatever. She'll hear it again some day.

After the movie ends the children are returned to their barracks, Beth heads back to her own room. It's a pointless exercise, changing into her pyjamas and laying down with her head against the pillow like she actually has a hope in hell of getting some rest. She wont. It doesn't matter what she does, what she takes. The night before a run she rarely sleeps. Instead it's time spent pouring over the plan, and the back up plan, and the secondary back up until she has exhausted everything.

She'd always taken this seriously. Gavin had stressed the very first time he'd let her out on her own that he was trusting her. She was responsible for the lives that she ferried out of the outpost, and the supplies, and for maintaining discretion. This time it's different. They've never had multiple groups, they've never taken over a dozen people of any age from the outpost at once. They've never turned to the other communities for help.

That's what it is. They're asking for help, begging for it. She wouldn't be surprised if the words 'help' and 'aid', and of course 'please' didn't pop up in the letters that Gavin would be writing.

They could still say no. They could turn them away at the gates. They wont shoot on sight. It's a gamble, a remarkably huge one made by a man who she's heard time and time again advise against playing the odds. It's ballsy to even entertain the idea that the children might be granted asylum. It wouldn't change their agreements. They would still need to keep to the schedule and collect, they couldn't cut down on anything, there was no room to ease up.

Blind faith was what it was.

Gavin, hoping above all else that there's still good in these people. Beth's never met them. She's met a couple of the Kingdom folks and by met – she's watched them from afar. Gavin's dealt with the King directly, says he's reasonable. A strong leader, beloved by his people. There's good in those walls. That what he'd said to her.

She begged to differ. Good things don't last in this world. They aren't made for this world. Good people die. They die or they change which at the end of the day doesn't feel much different. What's left when you strip away the good? Strip away the light? Someone like her. A shell. Might as well be dead anyway. Not that the universe hadn't tried that hand already.

Beth's sitting silently in the rec-room while people dance around her in a flurry of motion. The final checks are taking place, weapons are being doled out. The youngest of the group is a year old. The eldest, sixty. She'll take the older children on foot, the group heading to the Hilltop will have a few vehicles that they'd readied and hidden days before, just outside the outposts boundaries.

"Come on, Car. You've gotta put this on." Mac is attempting to reason with a particularly ornery six year old who, from her vantage point, looks to be on the verge of tears.

"What about Bear?" The little boy asks, bottom lip trembling.

Beth slides out of her seat and cuts across the room. Mac turns his head to look at her, giving an exhausted shake. Beth says nothing, only taking the black jacket from his hand's and kneeling down to the child's level. "Bear's gonna go with you." She says quietly, motioning for him to put his arms out. Mac's okay with the kids, but his empathy sucks. It's for the best he never had any before. "He'd be sad if he had to stay here."

The aformentioned Bear was one of the two non-livestock animals allowed at the outpost. Bear was a big English Mastiff. A couple hunters had found him a few years back. Useless as a hunting dog but a great guard dog. Not that they'd trained him for it, it was just his size. He was huge, probably weighed more than she did. Beth'd never seen him so much as growl at anyone. Dead, yes, but the children? No. He was like their Nana – that dog from the Peter Pan movie. Where the children went, Bear followed.

Carson reluctantly stretches his arms at his sides. "What about Sadie?"

Ah, Sadie. Her dog. She'd found her out on a run, poured points into nursing her back to health. Some sort of collie and heeler mix apparently. Short hair, a funny grey and white speckled coat with tan around her feet (almost like she's wearing boots as one of the children had one pointed out) dark brown eyes and grey ears. Well, a grey ear. The other had been torn off, best guess was that it had been the walker that they'd found with it's arm jammed in the cage. Beth didn't mind, it gave her personality. Besides, wasn't like she was all there either. They've both got their marks from this damn world. She'd always thought it's why they made such a good pair.

"Sadie's gonna go with me. Gotta make sure all those teenagers walk fast. She'll nip at their heels if they slow down." Beth snaps her teeth together quick, which earns a giggle from the boy. Sadie would do it, too. A breed thing (apparently) "I know it's warm and you don't wanna wear this, but we have to. Even Sadie and Bear are wearing them."

Okay, the dogs aren't wearing coats, but harnesses with reflective stripping taped on. Just like every child and adult. So they could keep track of them in low light. Beth lets out a low whistle. No one else pays much attention to it, not until the white-grey streak comes barrelling into the room. "See?" Sadie stops right in front of her, tail wagging expectantly. Sure enough, Sadie's already got her harness on her. Complete with the reflective add-ons.

Carson gives her a careful once over, and Sadie licks the boys face and settles at his feet. Deeming it suitable, he allows her to slide the arms of his slightly-too-big coat on. "How about you two go make sure Bear's got his harness on, okay?" She says as she straightens up, giving Mac a pointed look.

She'd just fixed the kid, he better not undo it. The last thing anyone needs is the cries of a child to serve as a distraction or worse yet a beacon.

From the looks of the room they're just about ready to go. They'll do a final headcount and check the two-ways, make sure everyone who can carry is armed, then they'll be heading out. It'll be okay, she knows this. They've planned for well over a month, the routes were secured. The biggest threats and obstacles removed in the days before, all in preparation for this.

If the King was anywhere near as kindhearted as Gavin seemed to believe, the children would be welcome. As for the Hilltop, Gregory was easily bought if word from Simon's crew said anything. Gregory would bend in whatever direction they pushed him in. To sweeten the pot, they were sending supplies with them. If there was no heart in that man left to manipulate, but they weren't dealing with Gregory. No. Word was the Widow had control of the hilltop. There was a reason why the youngest were being sent there. A teenager could be turned away, but toddlers? No. Even Negan wouldn't turn them away. In the event the Widow contemplated it, the two crates of medical supplies and three coolers of untainted food would serve as a bargaining chip.

They were ready. Beth stuffs her hand into the pocket of her jacket, feeling until her fingers close around the familiar bunch of wool. The black watch cap is pulled out, shaken, then brought down on her head. What's left of her hair is carefully gathered and tucked underneath the collar of her jacket. Sadie weaves excitedly between her legs. She knows what that means, what happens when her master is all dressed up. No doubt that she's feeding off the excitement and emotions that are running at a high in the rec room.

"Let's head out." Beth's voice cuts through the room like a sharp edged knife. Everyone pauses and looks, but there are no questions. No discussions. One by one, they make their way out of the rec room and down the hall. A silent procession.

She's one of the last to leave. Taking up the back of the line. Once they're in the yard, they'll split off and say their goodbyes. Beth just wants one last look.

Maybe, she thinks to herself, maybe it will be okay. If not for her then for the children. They're worth the risk. If they can get even a few far from here, somewhere safe. They deserve that much. They deserve more, but this is as much as she can give to any of them.

Her time.

If need be, her life, too.

* * *

 **A/N:** The song is _'Go The Distance'_ from Disney's Hercules - written by Alan Menken and David Zippel. Originally recorded by Roger Bart.

What do you guys think? I hope that you liked it! I'm a bit nervous about this. My first TWD fic, for a much loved pairing. There are so many amazing writers in the fandom and in the Bethyl corner in particular that it feels a little bit daunting throwing my work out there for you all to see. This started on a whim. I have ideas on where I want it go to, how I want things to play out. I am still very much working on this. I have a binder and everything. I'm excited to take this step into the zombie apocalypse and I hope you will join me for the ride!


	2. Chapter 2

_The flare._

The warning signal. She can hear the screams in her mind. The cries, the prayers screamed to the heavens as if someone up there actually gave a shit.

The pain. It jolts her into consciousness, hard and fast. Beth bolts upright and instantly regrets the decision because there's a lightning strike of blinding agony spearing through her skull. It's too much. Too much movement, too bright, something's wrong with her head. Her fingers rise up to check the scars, but are met with resistance before they can reach their destination. There's a telltale metallic clink that tells her the stabbing sensation is the least of her worries. She can barely lift her hands above waist level.

The room stops spinning just enough to allow her to focus. There's two shiny sets of cuffs, one attached to each wrist and then to metal rails affixed to either side of the bed. Panic wells up instantaneously. They would never handcuff her at the outpost. Not after the first time, she was good. But this isn't the outpost. A sick feeling twists in her gut. If it isn't the outpost then where the fuck is she?

More importantly, where are the children?

The room is empty. Devoid of people. No moody teenagers, no Mac, no Sadie. There's just a window, some art on the wall, an end table with a vase on it. She'd been with the kids, getting close to the Kingdom territory. Where are they? Against her better judgment she lets out a low whistle. They'll know what it means. They'll hear it and respond. Sadie will come running if she's in earshot, but she just needs to know they're there. That she hasn't lost them because the last thing that she can remember is the flare.

The flare, burning bright as the sun that's pouring in through the open window. Both groups had been given a flare gun and a single flare each, only to be used under the most extreme circumstances. They had agreed to use it should the mission become to dangerous and they were unable to proceed. Everyone under the age of ten had been with that group. They'd set a flare off.

She needs to get out of this bed, out of wherever the fuck she is right now. She needs to find the rest of the kids, needs to find the other group. The bag she had been carrying is nowhere to be seen. Someone had given her a once over, it's not just the bag that's missing.

Her boots are gone, so is her jacket, her belt and the knives she had attached to it. Even her necklace. Okay, that one was a knife too technically. She's got nothing. Even the wires she wore wound tight around her wrists are gone. There's no point in feeling violated now. Being pissed off about being weaponless isn't going to help anyone.

Beth gives both her arms a firm pull, testing out the railings. They aren't firmly attached, they wiggle when she pulls on them. Which mean's they're loose. She gets an idea.

She'd whistled, there's a good chance whoever had decided to handcuff her to a bed heard and is on their way to deal with her. So she's got a couple minutes at best to try and make a break for it. She's not the Hulk or some other of Haley's beloved comic book heroes, she can't melt the rods or make the cuffs vanish with the snap of her fingers. But she's got ideas.

Beth twists in the bed so that she's sideways, as much as the current position will allow for. She brings up her foot, pressing it against the railing. Her leg draws back and she kicks with as much force as she can manage. The pain shoots up the pad of her foot and her leg, but she bites back the groan and draws her leg up again. There'll be time for all of that later. It hurts like hell and it's only gonna hurt worse but if she can get just one hand loose, she can mess with the other one. If need be she can break something and pull out of the second set of cuffs. She'll still have the railing attached to one hand, but it's light enough – sturdy. It'll be good to swing at whoever is gonna come through that door.

The tears are pricking the corner of her eyes and it is becoming increasingly hard not to vocalize the pain as it shoots up her leg. With boots on it would be different but a pair of socks? Yeah, that's not going to do much for her.

She is mid-kick number five when the door swings open. A man steps through, a sandwich as big as her face pressed up against his mouth. Which is oddly fitting, because the guy is massive. "You're up!"

No, no, no is all she can think. Now the kicking is more frantic, frenzied. "Hey! You're gonna hurt yourself." The man's panicking now, too. The sandwich gets dumped on the side table and in a blink he's at the side of the bed, reaching out for her. He places a hand on her shoulder and a switch flips in her mind.

Beth's head whirls and mouth latches onto whatever closest, which happens to be his arm. She bites down, hard. He lets out a surprised yelp and tries to wretch his arm away but that only makes her jaw lock. There's cloth in her way. She's not drawing blood, yep. If he wants to move his arm again though she'll get access to skin and it'll be a whole different ball game. Instead, he uses his other hand to grab her scalp. His fingers wrap up in her hair and he pulls hard. He's saying something too, sounds a lot like sorry. Which is funny considering she's the one trying to tear his tendons out.

"That's enough!" A voice booms. Instantly the man lets go of her hair, he freezes on the spot like he'd just heard the voice of God or something. Beth still doesn't let go. Her jaw is aching with the rest of her but she still looks up daringly, blue eyes meeting brown.

The bigger man turns to the new figure with wide eyes "I was coming into checking on her, she was trying to take the railing off." He sounds shocked by it – which he really shouldn't. Didn't most prisoners want to escape?

There's no point in holding on now so when he pulls on his arm again, she lets go. Snarling like some wild thing as she does, too. He's rolling up his sleeve, worried look on his face. "It's nothing." He reassures the stranger.

"Jerry, leave us for a moment." The two exchange looks and for a second, it looks like the sandwich receives consideration. He leaves it though, whispering something about being just outside the door. "I apologize for the restraints. They were necessary, unfortunately. You attacked two of my people. You shot at one, and stabbed another." That sounds like her, exactly like something that she would do but she can't remember it and that's something she would remember. All the people she's hurt or worse, they're the only thing in her head that stays. The only thing that she doesn't doubt for a second.

If she attacked them, why not just kill her? Leave her for dead?

There's something about him. The way he's moving around the room. His long coat, even his hair. The tone of his voice. Who was he?

"The children have continuously asked to see someone by the name of Bird. They assured us that we left no soul behind, I presume that you're the Bird of which they speak." The children. A sigh of relief threatens to escape where it's been caged up in her chest. It's not like she wears a name tag, if she'd been in a fight it wasn't like she would have stopped to make introductions with her assailants. He must be some sort of psychic because he offers her a reassuring smile. One which, all things considered, Beth knows she does not deserve. "The children are unharmed. I just left them, they are enjoying the finest breakfast that the Kingdom's stores have to offer."

The Kingdom. That gives her pause for thought.

So, on the upside. They'd made it. On the downside, she had attacked some of the Kingdom's people. Which is bad, really bad.

"Might I ask who I am speaking to?" Why is he being so revoltingly polite? Beth says nothing. Her answer should be that she's Negan. That's the answer she'd been trained to give. Not her own name, if it's even her name. Not the nickname the others had lovingly bestowed upon her. She's Negan, end of story. If this is the Kingdom then Negan is the last person she can be.

"I am King Ezekiel."

Shit, shit, shit.

It is a damn good thing he hadn't been the first person through the door. Fuck, what if he had been and she'd tried to rip his arm off with her teeth? Gavin had given her strict instructions. She was to dig deep and be personable just long enough to get the King to agree, should he require any convincing. While he hadn't explicitly stated that they weren't to attack any of the King's personnel but it had been implied. Heavily implied.

He's watching her carefully. She should say something but she can't. 'I'm Negan' is still threatening to spill out and that little speech she had rehearsed in her mind the day before was long gone. If the ache in her skull was any indication, it had been bashed out of it. "The children are reluctant. Understandably so, my people found you without transportation, and you were packed for a journey. You must have come some ways. All I ask is for your name, nothing more and nothing less." It's amazing how even he is keeping his tone. Everything seems measured, calculated.

If she were in his place, there would already be threats of violence right about now.

A few long moments lapse between them. This guy fits what she's heard about the king, plus he'd introduced himself as the king so there is that. It's just that she can't do it, can't break. Can't trust. What if the children aren't alive? If this guy is a showman, this could be an act. A way to crack her open and extract information.

"Perhaps you will feel more inclined to speak after you have had some rest. Our doctor will be up shortly to see to you. I imagine you're every bit as hungry as your companions were. Jerry will arrange a platter." He finishes with the wave of his hand. Beth's pretty sure Jerry isn't going to want to arrange a platter – whatever the hell that means. Food is the least of her worries.

He turns to leave then. She's left alone in the room, but there's a man on the door. She can see the feet through the crack. Smart. She wouldn't leave her alone, either.

Someone comes by eventually. They introduce themselves as a doctor, her eyes are too busy sweeping them for a weapon or anything that she could use as one to pick up on their name. They're hesitant to come close and she can't help the smirk that turns up the corners of her mouth. They're scared.

That's good. They should be. She's killed over less – for less.

There's questions. The predictable type. Wanting to know how she's feeling, how her head is doing – what those scars on her chin and her scalp are from. Beth ignores it. She'd been knocked out, probably with the butt of a gun. How the hell did they think she was doing? Knocked out and cuffed to a bed. Was she supposed to be happy? Compliant? Probably. They're in for a rude awakening if they're waiting for that.

The doctor leaves eventually. Fed up with her, or too uncomfortable. A mixture of both is what she had been aiming for. The empty little room that they have set her up in doesn't provide much in the way of distractions or entertainment. Those first days at the hospital had been like this. Funny how much like a prisoner she had felt then. In a way, she was. They'd told her she'd hurt people, that she'd killed. She was a hazard which was why when she had woken up, Dr. Edwards had to explain away the sets of leather cuffs that kept her tethered to the bed.

It's different now though for a few reasons. She isn't that girl anymore. She's grown, she's evolved. If she wants out of the bed then she's gonna get out of the bed one way or another. There isn't a goddamn person in the entire fucked up world that's going to stop her.

Beth tries to formulate a plan. The first and most obvious step being have the cuffs removed. The King had said that the children were alive and well. She needs confirmation of that, she needs to know just how much holy hell she's gonna have to raise once she gets out. Once her group is confirmed safe, there's the others.

She had purposely tried to bury that down as deeply as she could. She only vaguely remembers seeing the flare, it had felt like a dream but it wasn't. Down in her bones it's like she just knows. If they set the flare off something bad had happened. The group had the most adults, the most firepower, but they had been escorting the youngest of the children. If they were overrun, the children were gone. What six year old was equipped to survive in this world on their own?

A child strapped into a carrier or a car seat? An easy snack for a walker.

She couldn't focus on that, the bile rising in the back of her throat and the pounding in her skull. Everything in her that's telling her the flare should be her utmost priority. Because the logical part of her, the bit of her brain that hadn't been blown out is telling her those children are gone. The group is gone. There's nothing she can do for them, but maybe she can still take care of her own. It doesn't need to be a complete defeat.

If she can somehow kick the rail over, it will mean she'll have to wreck one of her hands just to get free. There's still someone at the door, the odds of her being able to get free of the bed before they storm in are non-existent. She had never been the strongest. She's stronger than she had been before, sure there's muscles where there probably hadn't been prior. She's not weak, not like they told her she was, not any more.

She's not strong enough for this. She's smart enough, though.

Weird how sitting in a room with nothing, no one, triggers memories. Funny she even has those really considering – holes in the head and all. They aren't from before though, so that's why. She can make new memories it's just all those old ones. Before waking up strapped to the bed at Grady Memorial, those were gone.

There's one in particular that comes to her now. Her first few weeks at the plant outpost she'd picked a fight. Someone had pushed her out of line for food. Beth's immediate reaction was to swing at them. It hadn't ended well, she was back and on her ass in about a second flat. They were too big – too strong. Beth dragged her sorry self to the back of the line. By the time the plant floor was clearing, she'd marched herself up to the line-cutters table and slammed her tray down – demanding that they teach her how to do that.

The thing was they couldn't. Mac had made it immediately (and painfully) clear that she would never have brute strength on her side. She could train all she wanted, it wouldn't matter. A weapon would only slightly improve her odds. She didn't have strengths but she had smarts, and her size could work in her favor. It wasn't long before Quick and fast. Dance circles around them. Those weren't the only tools at her disposal, as Mac would soon take the liberty of pointing out.

"I bet before you were real good at getting people to do what you wanted." Mac had told her one night after he was a few drinks in. Part of their nightly ritual after training and she rounded on the kids. They'd play the "What Does Beth Remember?" game. "You're pretty, you've got those big fucking blue eyes and that voice. Bet you could get someone to walk through hell and back for you just by batting your eyelashes."

Pfft. Beth had just glared at him. Nothing about her was pretty. Scarred up face, tiny pale build on the outside, nothing but dark and empty inside. "I'm serious. You outta try it sometime. You can get more flies with honey than you do vinegar. Might work better than all that snapping and snarling you insist on doing."

Much to Beth's chagrin he was right.

She can play nice. When she's gotta she can do it because she's smart. Guns and big ass walls aren't the only thing that keep people alive nowadays. Brains do it, too. Brains do it all the time. Luckily for her, she hadn't had all of her own blown out

"I want to see Ezekiel."

They wont kill her. That's not their way, she's pretty sure all that crap about him having a tiger who has a thing for Saviors is bullshit.

"King Ezekiel." The voice on the other side of the door calls out.

Beth rolls her eyes. Mac's voice echoes helpfully in her head. More flies with honey than with vinegar. "I want to see King Ezekiel." She corrects herself, letting her head drop back against the pillow on the bed. There's that annoyed tone she couldn't quite bury but they'll have to understand – the day isn't going her way.

There's no other response. Nothing. It's quiet and then the shadows underneath the door vanish. Whoever had been guarding her is walking away. The urge to kick the-ever-loving-shit out of the railing reels up and it takes every ounce of restraint that she possesses not to cave. That's not smart. If she needs to fight it'll go a hell of a lot better if she's got both hands at her disposal.

* * *

 **A/N:** So Beth is in the Kingdom! I know this chapter is a bit wordy considering there's not a whole lot that happens. I will say right off, I may take some creative liberties with some of the Kingdomer's. I love the crew, but I'm a bit worried about how I'll write them. Ezekiel in particular I think will be my Everest. I love him so much I'm almost scared to use him /too/ much. There's some characters in various fandoms who I think way too highly of (thanks to the writing and actors portrayals) that writing them feels so intimidating.

UNRELATED! I have a question for you guys! Which member of Team Family would you have Beth reunite with first and why? I debated this one for a long time. I'm really curious because there's so many people who are a part of Team Family now. So many options and honestly all of them are good in their own ways.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note** -

Alrighty.

I did not intend to update this so quickly. I also did not intend for this chapter to be as long as it is. At the 3k mark I started editing, thinking it was done and ready to be posted. Well about five minutes into that (give or take) I decided I needed to write an additional scene. The extra 2k worth of words could have, and was going to be a chapter on it's own but I didn't want to break it up once I had it all typed out. Just because the story is going to be a slow burn in some ways, doesn't mean I want my plot to creep along. It felt like it would be better for the pacing to release a monster chapter instead of splitting it up into two or three parts. So that leaves ya'll with a chapter that comes out to about 5,236 words roughly. I also made myself sad writing this. Just a heads up on that. You may have some feels, you may not. Who knows!

As always thank you guy so much for taking the time to review, watch, and read this.

This thing is not beta'd so any mistakes are my own. I apologize if the format is a bit wonky. I am in dire need of a coffee.

Enjoy!

 **TW/Trigger Warning** : Canon typical violence and gore, canon typical violence and gore involving minors. It is not too descriptive but it is definitely there and may be upsetting to some.

* * *

Chapter Text

Whoever is standing outside the door does pass on the message that she wants a meeting with the King, but the man does take his sweet time before showing his face again. Given the circumstances, a group of mysterious children showing up at the gate with no real explanation as to why; she would have thought he might have been more eager, especially with how short lived their last conversation was. Unless making her wait is some sort of tactic. Realistically the only thing he'll achieve by making her wait is further annoying her which wont be beneficial to anyone.

Ezekiel does eventually show. He's not alone this time. The mountain, Jerry is with him. Jerry's holding something in his arms and her heart stills in her chest. Anger wells up inside of her. He's carrying Sadie. Sadie isn't moving. Sadie isn't jumping out of his arms and rushing to her side like she should be doing. There's no missing the fact that all four of her paws are wrapped up in what looks like guaze and some sort of tape, either.

What did they do to her dog?

"I have been made to understand that you have a very strong bond with this creature. She was barking outside of the gate this morning- for something so small she caused quite a scene."

Of course. She's got a higher-pitched bark, especially when she's riled up. Why was she outside the gates? Why had she not been hauled off with the rest of them? Had the Kingdom assholes left her behind. "What did you do to her?" Any chance of civility instantly vanishes. Ezekiel looks confused by this. As if he can't possibly understand why she might be angry about the fact that he's just waltzed in with some guy cradling her dead dog.

Jerry removes his hand from Sadie's stomach and her head twitches, lolling over to the side with her pink tongue hanging out. As if waking from a daze and finally realizing who had been speaking she scrambles to turn over in the man's arms.

Oh.

"You're referring to her paws? They were raw and bleeding, I personally saw to her care. " Oh. Well. That's different then.

Jerry cautiously brings the wriggling animal over to the bed and sets her down on her lap. Sadie immediately springs to life, pawing at her, licking her face. One short, clipped whistle has the heeler-mix settling down.

"Dude – she must have run all night to get here. She ran all night to find you. That is awesome." Jerry offers helpfully, as if that might improve her disposition. He puts particular emphasis on the 'all night part'. Which, even she can't deny is impressive. Sadie's trained, trained well. It's just she's not really a scent dog. They've done some drills but search and rescue isn't exactly her forte, she's a herder. They must have loaded them into a vehicle or something, not that she can remember. If they'd walked to the Kingdom Sadie following them wouldn't have been quite as an impressive feat. If they were driven, and she had no real means to track, in that case it's something.

If it wasn't for the fact that her hands were still bound, she would have given her a scratch behind the ear as a silent thanks. Beth isn't sure what she's thankful for. Sadie not abandoning her, maybe. Since that seems to be a common theme – so far as she's heard anyway. She can't think of a single person she knows, not even a single person in the world, who would have done the same. The dog was, and continued to be one of the bright spots in her generally bleak existence. Run all night. Yeah, it's definitely something.

It puts her in an awkward position, this show of kindness. There's absolutely no reason why they should have taken care of Sadie. Hell, no good reason to not shoot her for drawing walkers to the gate. They didn't have to take her in and they had. Every ounce of snark she had been planning on expending feels slightly less warranted now. Sure, she's still in handcuffs but they'd taken care of Sadie.

Ezekiel seems pleased with himself, too. There's no missing the glint of light in his eyes or the little quirk of his lips. If this had been a tactic of some kind it had been a damn good one. He settles back into the chair at the foot of the bed. "Now, you wished to speak with me?"

 **xxx**

The King was a smart man. At least, that was what Gavin had assured her of. Beth had been worried about what might happen to the others if they were taken in by another settlement, if they were transparent. If they knew who those children belonged to, where they had come from. He has to know. Ezekiel has to know who she is, or what she is.

The children have no real sense of loyalty. Not yet. Even the oldest of them haven't sworn any oaths. Beth can see a handful of them trading information for a nice apple, or some of the more exotic fare that she knows come from inside these walls. She can't blame them. So long as they aren't under duress, as long as the King and his men are nice – why wouldn't they play along? They had been told to be good. On their best behaviour and they would be safe.

If they had said anything yet – Ezekiel isn't making it plain. Hasn't mentioned her name, where she's from. Nothing.

"You favor the blade," He nods absently. He's throwing out lines in hopes of catching something. " I'm told that they removed at least five from your person." Which she is thrilled about. No doubt evident by the face she's making at the mention of their absence."I was curious about those bracelets. Those look to be handmade." Her eyes flicker upwards at this. "What sort of weapons are those?"

Now, she thinks silently, he's playing dumb. He may not be able to put a name to them – heck she hadn't even know those sorts of things had a name, but he has to know what they're used for.

Typically she only carried a rifle or handgun out of necessity – Gavin's orders. Every one of his people who left the safety of their walls had to carry. She hated it. Mainly, because if she had to use it – it would be a waste of bullets.

He asks his next question as calmly as all the others. "Why did you attack my men?"

He repeats the question. It amazes her how polite he can sound, under the circumstances.

"As soon as they came upon you and the rest of your group you turned away while the others laid down their weapons."

Beth's jaw tightened. She remembers that. Sort of. Remembers the kids kneeling, remembers the feeling of urgency that spurred her back towards the forest. They had found the King's men, her job was done. She was needed elsewhere.

"Why did you run?"

She immediately hates the way he says it. Run, as if she had been scared, wanted to get away. Scared sure – but not of them. They had nothing to do with it.

"You shot at one, and stabbed another." Ezekiel points out.

He's trying to lead her towards what he wants. An answer. "They were trying to stop me. It was a warning shot." Beth grimaces. She hadn't intended to hit them, simply scare them so that they would keep their distance – decide she was more trouble than it would be worth. "I stabbed the one who grabbed me." It's simple, a plain fact. It's not as if she can pin it on someone else. He already knows that blood had been shed by her hand.

Ezekiel's brows furrow "Why not travel with your people the rest of the way?" This he seems slightly confused by.

Okay. First off. He's making it sound like she'd abandoned them in the middle of a walker-infested forest without the means to protect themselves, or assurance that they would be found. Neither of which were the case. At least that's how Beth's choosing to take this specific line of questioning.

"I-" For the first time Beth jumps to participate in the conversation. It feels like she needs to dispel whatever ideas he's concocted about her. Only, the sound of the cuffs rattling against the railing cut her off. Beth's eyes abandon the King's and fly downwards. The movement also catches his attention. The rest of her body is still but her arm just shakes. A familiar wave of pain courses up from her offending hand and snakes its way until it's enveloped her entire arm.

She can't even reach over to hold the disobedient limb still. "You're in pain." Ezekiel's confusion has turned to concern when he finally looks back up at her. Beth says nothing, she does nothing. "You're used to this pain." Without even speaking a word it's like he knows. She doesn't like that, doesn't like it at all.

That tremor has been there since she had woken up at Grady. It's one of the many fun muscle related issues she's had – a result of the brain injury. Spasticity is what Dr. Edwards had called it. Could go away, might never, no way to tell. No way to treat it either. It comes and goes without warning, no way that she's found of managing it outside of simply grinning and bearing it. It's something she hides when she can, downplays it when possible. It makes her look weak – broken. Those aren't good things to be in this world.

"Perhaps our doctor's-" If she had use of her hands she would have put them up to stop him.

"It's not something anybody can fix." Beth mutters, casting her eyes downwards so she doesn't have to see the look in his. It's bad enough that she can feel it. Sympathy, poorly placed too considering two seconds ago they'd been discussing how she had attacked two of his people. It's not something she wants, definitely not something she needs. She has managed to live with it so far. Yes, it makes some things difficult. The lack of predictability in the episodes makes her dread the idea of using a gun ever. The pain sucks – and there's always someone who needs the painkillers more (if she had points for every time someone told her to suck it up – she'd be set) It's just another shitty thing in this shitty life she's got, living in this shitty world.

She doesn't want to talk about this. Why can't they go back to talking about how she stabbed someone or something? Violence she can talk about all day. That's nothing to her but this – it's as personal as it is permanent which is to say very. No one gets to see those sides of her. No one.

As if sensing that her medical issues are a dead end street he does opt for a different route. Which in a weird way, Beth finds herself feeling thankful for. "We found a letter among your things." Okay, that's good. That's a relief actually – that means the children wont have to rely on her diplomacy skills. "You mean to leave the children here." Well, duh is about all she can think. Even concussed like she surely is, Beth has the sense not to let that slip out. "Tell me, Miss Bird- what makes you so certain that there is a place for them in the Kingdom?" Ezekiel asks, leaning forward in his eat.

This feels like a trick question.

She could say that he will do it out of fear. That some terribly tragedy will befall him should he turn them back – but that's off script and Gavin would have her head for it.

"The man who sent me believes that there are still good people in the world." Ezekiel doesn't so much as blink at that. It's not the answer he wants.

"What do you believe, Lady Bird?"

Fuck. Beth's amazed she hadn't actually sworn aloud. Did he have to ask that?

Beth takes a moment, glancing down at Sadie who has curled up at the foot of the bed – watching the proceedings with interest. Her beliefs are non-existent. She has none. There's nothing there to talk about.

Honey over vinegar. She can be nice when she has to, somewhere deep down she's got a vein of charm that she can tap when needed. Just, she doesn't bother much with the tapping. Usually it's a problem that can be solved with death glares or a cold remark. Not this, there's too much riding on this little talk of theirs.

"I believe that they're innocent. I know that you know who I am." She its up as much as possible, squaring her shoulders and looking him straight in the eye. There's no room for misinterpretation here. "There is a war going on right outside of your gates. They have no part in this. They didn't ask for this, they don't deserve to lose their lives in this fight. They aren't soldiers, they aren't Saviors-" Feels like the air is sucked out of the room when she says that out loud but Beth forces herself on. "They're children. Even the oldest of them. They don't have allegiance, they don't deserve to die. They deserve a chance."

He seems to consider this for a moment. As if he's dissecting her little speech word for word. "How do you know they'll be safe here?"

She wants to say there are no immediate threats towards the Kingdom. Gavin would never attack, and the Kingdom is his outpost. He and Ezekiel supposedly have an understanding, quite frankly they have no reason to. The reality of the situation is that their outpost is more likely to be hit than the Kingdom. Rick's group, whatever the Widow is doing at the Hilltop – they don't seem to care. Any Saviors have a target on their back. Negan might burn Alexandria to the ground, and god only knows what Simon will do to the Hilltop if they force his hand – but so far as Gavin is concerned the Kingdom is off limits (unless by direct order from the boss himself. Given the sheer amount of supplies they collect, Beth can't see Negan making the call unless he absolutely has to)

The problem is that Ezekiel has no reason to believe anything that's coming out of her mouth. "If you send us back, their days are numbered. We can't keep them safe." It's a bitter pill to swallow – it feels like failure to her but it's a simple truth.

"You've only spoken about the young ones. Are you not seeking asylum? Surely you wont fare any better upon your return than they would."

The world, the Saviors, it's the only one that she's ever known. She had no choice. Even after she had been shipped off to Gavin. For all intensive purposes, the Saviors had raised her. They had made her. Never had anyone tried to intervene. No one had tried to shield her from the harsh realities of this new world. No one had offered her another path. Few of the kids will remember what life was like before – they try to provide a sliver of it, as much as they can. A luxury that had not been extended to her.

"I don't belong here." Beth says quietly, breaking eye contact for what feels like the first time in an eternity. Ezekiel seems to find this curious. _I don't belong anywhere._ He doesn't ask though. She'll go back to where she came from. Go back to going on runs, caring for the few that had been left behind. Waiting for her time to tick down until it's up and it's finally all over.

It's silent for a long moment. Beth takes the time to thank whatever the hell is out there, if there is anything out there, for the fact that he doesn't ask about that. He knows who she is, the people that she's come from. Their reputation proceeds them; most of them anyways.

"Why were you trying to get away?" Ezekiel asks. So they're circling back. At least it's marginally better than going over her non-existent belief system and the laundry shit of bad shit that she's done. "My people mentioned that someone had set off a flare – they were on route when they found you."

Jesus christ – how is he doing this with the questions?

Beth hadn't read the letter. She has no idea if Gavin had mentioned a second group, no idea if the children had mentioned the others and Ezekiel is just playing dumb. Fuck it – what's the point in lying now? They're all going to be dead anyways. "There were more of us out there." To this point, save for his moments of concern Ezekiel's expressions and tone have not faltered dramatically in one way or another. Without her having to explain he understands exactly what she's saying. He knows. "The flare was a call for help. That's why I ran and that's why I hurt the people who tried to stop me." There's bitterness to her tone, one Beth doesn't even bother trying to hide it.

 **xxx**

What happens next throws her. It happens fast, too. Her handcuffs are removed and she's given back her boots, coat, gloves, and hat. He's providing her with a stark warning. She is not to try anything.

Beth hadn't predicted this. In fact, she'd assumed she'd spend another day as their captive at least before any decision was made to let her go. The King it seems, has something of a bleeding heart. No more than ten minutes after their little talk he's rounding up a small group of half a dozen soldier's to escort her to the site to look for survivors. She wants to say that it's a waste of time – they're gone and this exercise is a waste of man power but he's sending her out with the others. Out of the bed, beyond the walls.

They purposely don't arm her, though. Whatever.

The flare had been set off in the forest, the best estimate is that the second group had never made it to the road. Her babysitter's say nothing on the drive out. The only time they really acknowledge her presence is to give her looks of general disgust; which Beth throws right back. They focus more on Sadie than they do her which just makes sense. Beth herself being the most likely between the two of them to bite. Plus, Sadie's all tail-wags and lolling tongue, soaking up any and all attention that they see fit to give.

It feels a little bit better being out of the bed. Her wrists are sore, and she's not armed, but she's covered up again. That black knit cap covering up her head, black jacket providing another layer of protection with a collar long enough that when done up all the way she can effectively hide most of her face – not that it matters now. They pull off to the side of the road. One stays behind with the van while the rest turn into the forest.

There's no way to say definitively where the flare had been set off, they're eyeballing it at best. Though she suspects that the closer they get to it; it will start getting pretty goddamn clear they're in the right spot.

Anxiety gnaws at her stomach. It's different from the butterflies that float around in her chest whenever she leaves the sanctuary of the outpost for a run. It only intensifies the deeper they walk. Truthfully, she's got no clue how far they are from Hilltop – she's never been there. That route hadn't been hers to clear. She doesn't allow herself to have the hope that maybe they're close enough that someone could have made it. Maybe it wasn't a total massacre.

Sadie grows increasingly wary with each step – like she's been switched onto high alert. It's obvious that they're getting closer to something. What that something is she can only guess.

They're maybe twenty minutes into their little hike when she hears it. Her stomach drops instantly. Confusion overtakes the others.

 _There's a calm before the storm_  
 _I know it's been comin' for some time_

It's music.

"Hold up." one of the Kings men throws his arms and the others stop – rifles raised now. They crowd around something. One of them's muttering something about god under their breath. Sadie bolts towards the little group and lets out a low whine.

Beth has to elbow her way in. She immediately wishes she hadn't. They're gathered around car seat. There's no baby in it – why would there be? The seat is stained red though. Beth squashes the feeling that's welling up inside of her. That queasy one that churns her stomach. She's better than that. She's seen worse than that. It's just a bloody car seat.

 _I want to know_  
 _Have you ever seen the rain_  
 _Comin' down on a sunny day?_

All the while the music's drawing closer. Sadie lets out a bark and dashes towards the bushes ahead of them. There's initial panic and confusion, confusion which is cleared up really damn fast when they hear the snarling. The King's men immediately form a line in front of her, weapons raised.

They first few walkers break through and into the clearing, Sadie's weaving in and out and trying to 'herd' them. The things seem torn between going after the yapping dog and going for them.

There's no orders shouted out, there's no discussion. Just the sound of rifles firing in quick succession. Four walkers drop to the forest floor immediately and Sadie disappears back into the brush. The music's closer now.

Somehow she already knows where it's coming from. Her brain kindly putting together the pieces for her. It's one of theirs. She wants to tell them not to shoot. Some fucked up part of her wants to believe that one of her people will come stumbling through the brush unharmed.

They don't though.

They stumble through wearing torn clothing, missing chunks out of their cheek, scalp, and throat. Coated in blood and dirt. They have a portable cassette player hanging around their neck. The source of the song. There's no time to say anything. The King's men shoot them down just as quick as they had the others.

It's name had been Marcus. He had been fifty at least, he had liked woodworking and loved music – used to teach guitar when he wasn't working in his shop. That doesn't matter now. The things, the walkers, they're not sick. There's no fixing it. They aren't people anymore. They're dead. You don't have to feel anything for them. It's better that way.

Sadie doesn't return but she's still barking. "What's her problem? Call her back." One of the King's men barks at her. Beth ignores them. The barking is drawing closer still.

"There's more." It's the only thing that she offers them. There's more walkers, the only reason why Sadie would keep on. The brush ruffles again and Sadie shoots out of it and spins on the spot in yipping at the foliage.

On the ground the cassette switches to a new song. Beth's only vaguely aware of the familiar sounds of Peace of Mind coming through the speaker.

The brush parts again and the air escapes her lungs. She'd been right. There had been more. Just one, but that technically counts.

The King's men are staring too. They don't shoot on sight, not this time. Hell no one's even turned off the music and Beth would have thought that would be a top priority. Even now with the speakers face down against the dirt it's just enough noise to draw more.

"That's a-" One begins to speak, a woman with a bow strapped to her back. Words fail her though. That's understandable.

She doesn't have words, either. It's their in her head. It's a child. Just, the word doesn't make it past her lips.

The florescent patches glint as it lurches forward, unsteady like it's drunk. It's head is cocked to the side. One arm is outstretched, fingers grasping at air. At least, the fingers would have been if the child had any. Beth thinksshe can see part of the pinky and the ring finger but the rest is just stumps.

It's wearing the jacket. The jacket that Mac hadn't been able to put on it before they'd left. It has a name, too.

Carson.

Beth shakes her head. No. It's not Carson anymore. It's dead. It's just a thing. "Don't shoot." She hisses towards the others as she moves towards the walker.

"What the hell are you doing? Get back here!" Beth ignores them. It's small, it's easy to wrap her arm around it's throat. She doesn't worry about it's hands. What's left of them wont do damage, no way it'll scratch her through the thick fabric of her coat, jeans, or gloves. Beth guides the walker forward, free hand outstretched.

"Give me one of your knives."

They seem a little lost. Like she's speaking a whole different language. "Hurry up." They cast each other uncertain looks before. One, the chick with the bow pulls a knife off of her belt. "Waste of bullets." Beth mutters under her breath as she adjusts her hand on the hilt.

It's one fluid movement. Quick, like a lightning strike. There's a flash of silver that's gone in a second. The walker stills in her arm as soon as the knife breaks the casing of it's skull. As soon as she hears the tell-tale crunching sound she feels pain shoot through her. Like she'd missed the skull and buried the blade in her chest instead. Beth doesn't flinch. She just puts it away. Puts it away the same way that she does everything. Lock it up and throw away the key. _It's not a person anymore. It's just a thing. Don't have to feel anything for it._ Beth silently reminds herself as she jerks the blade out. She doesn't let the body fall to the floor. Instead she guides it down so it's laying on it's back. Glazed blue eyes staring up at the foliage. Sadie settles now. Which means the coast is clear for the time being.

Reluctantly she wipes the blade off on her sleeve and holds it back out. They'll just take it from her anyways. There isn't any point in fighting it.

"We need to get moving." One of the men says; sounding dazed. The music has stopped now. Someone's turned off the cassette player.

Only two of the small group she could identify on sight. Only two were there's so far as she could tell. The others are turning to leave as she sinks down to her knees. Beth's hands work the forest floor. Dragging up dirt, sticks, leaves. "Go then." She bites back. There's no shovel, nothing even vaugely shovel-like in the vicinity but she can just use her hands. The least she can do is cover the bodies. It's what they would have done if they'd been found closer to the outpost. You didn't just leave them out like that.

"We are under strict orders to bring you back with us."

Beth doesn't even glance up. She just keeps pulling the earth up with her fingers. "Guess you better get on your knees and help then." Oh they don't like that. There's no time to revel in the fact that she's pissing them off. The sooner they get this done, the sooner they can get back for someone throws a fit about missing nap-time or whatever it is they've got to attend to in the Kingdom.

 **xxx**

Even with the six of them, and occasionally Sadie churning up the dirt and covering the two walkers it takes forever. No one speaks. They just do. Beth's surprised they're helping in all honesty. She's got no idea what they do with their dead, but they don't argue about this. Maybe it's obvious, maybe her face had betrayed her when the six-year old wandered out of the brush. Maybe they knew.

The other walkers don't get buried. She doesn't know them, doesn't really care. There's some brief debate over what to do with the car seat. Whether or not the copious amount of blood could be washed out of the lining. Ultimately they decide to bring it back. The lining can be torn out. Baby items are always good to have on hand.

They don't go any further. Beyond the brush there's just a whole lot of blood, a couple more walkers, signs of a struggle. Pretty fucking clear what had happened; no one sees a reason to investigate beyond that.

They load back up into the van. The man standing guard is only mildly pissed off about the fact that they'd taken, in his words, a quarter of a century with whatever the hell they had been doing. Beth's fingers clutch the cassette player that she'd removed from the body before they'd covered it. It's tempting to shut him up with it. One good swing and his jaw would be too damn hurt to whine about how long they'd taken.

The ride back is a whole different kind of silent now. The kid threw them, it must have been it. You don't see many kids like that. She's only ever seen maybe five. Beth's trying not to focus on it too much. Not the haunting look in the thing's eyes (because it's a thing – it wasn't Carson anymore) Instead she dwells on the cassette player in her hands. Marcus had intended on staying at the Hilltop to help with the children. Offering up his woodworking and carpentry backgrounds. He'd taken a few personal effects with him – anyone who was old enough to have any did. He'd used the cassette player all the damn time. The tape inside was a mix that someone – Haley, Beth thinks, had made for him. All his favourite music. Everything Haley had managed to scrounge up in addition to what Marcus had arrived at the outpost with.

It's pretty plain why it had been hanging off of his neck. If she had to guess, when shit hit the fan he'd used the noise as a distraction. Trying to lead the walkers that had no doubt found them away. She wonders if he'd been bit. It's pretty suicidal, something like that. He didn't know the area, didn't do runs. No way he was going to outrun a herd, even a small one, or fight his way through. He wasn't one of those people who were made for this world. Capable of a feat like that. If he'd been bit it made sense. He was gonna die anyway – why not do it while giving the others a chance?

It's considerably less stupid if that's the case. Beth settles on that explanation.

She leans back against the side of the van and shuts her eyes. They wont kill her, even if they're tempted. The King wanted her back alive after all. Not like there's windows or anything, she can't watch the scenery pass by. Sure as hell isn't anything to look at inside the van. Exhaustion is creeping up on her now, too. A deep-seated ache in her bones. It happens when the adrenaline wears off. Every time like clockwork.

Beth lets out a laboured sigh and runs her fingers over the worn plastic buttons on the cassette player.

Part of her can't wait to get back. She'll have her second wind by then and she's looking forward to telling a no-doubt expectant Ezekiel that that she'd been right, not that she'd shared those thoughts with him. To tell him what a goddamn waste of time that had been.

* * *

 **A/N** \- Yup. So ALL that happened.

There are 6 callbacks to previous seasons/events total in this chapter. Three of which all come from a single episode :D One is small but adding it made me happy. The rest pretty much just made me sad but I really didn't want to remove them.

The song first playing when they find Walker-Marcus is Have You Ever Seen The Rain by Creedence Clearwater Revival  
The second is Peace of Mind by Boston (only mentioned)

QUESTION TIME! If you were Ezekiel would you keep Beth at the Kingdom against her will or let her go? She is a Savior, after all. One who very clearly would rather risk death than stay among a more civilized folk.

Let me know what you think! Thank you so much for reading and I'll see ya'll next time 3


	4. Chapter 4

Ezekiel had insisted that she see the children. He wants her input on it, respects her views. Though somehow she already knows that he has his mind made up. They're children after all, and he is nothing if not compassionate. They were being kept in the library until they cleared a space for them. The older ones seemed quiet, distant. More than anything tired. The younger kept themselves occupied with books and drawings. Three or four were clustered around one of the tables, bent over their work.

The picture immediately caught her eye. The one that she currently had folded in the breast pocket of her shirt. She had no idea what had drawn her to it. That picture, that child. The child was unremarkable. A normal boy of ten if she had to guess. The drawing to anyone else would also be more of the same. The boy had been so proud of the picture despite that. As if he's captured a perfect likeness – spurred on by the praise he received as she zeroed in on the paper.

A girl dressed in black with gold hair which was half-hidden by a dark hat. Thick lines running across her forehead and her cheek. Scars, the boy had told her. She had more, too he had been quick to explain. It's why she wore the hat. When Carol had asked the name of the woman in the picture the boy shrugged and gave her one word. "Bird."

"Why?" Why Bird?

The boy only shrugs again"Sometimes she sings."

Sometimes she still sings. Carol wanted to laugh. Laugh, and laugh until tears rolled down her cheeks. The scars, the hair, her name. She must have stood there looking like an idiot because after a few minutes Ezekiel appeared at her side, concerned. As soon as he glanced at the picture he only confirmed everything she had been told. Bird. The woman who had brought the children here. Bird was a real, living person. Bird was there.

No, not there. Not anymore. He had extended an offer towards her. If there was room for the children another body wouldn't have much trouble at all. She hesitated. She wasn't trusting, he likened her to a wounded animal. Ready to bite a soon as someone extended a hand. He offered her the cottage, now that she was living within the walls the cottage remained empty. The woman could think his offer over there.

Her feet couldn't carry her fast enough.

Ezekiel had offered an escort, but she was already out the door.

Maybe. Just maybe. But how? Shouldn't they have been able to tell? Shouldn't there have been some sign? They had been so sure. There had been so much blood. It wasn't as if they hadn't been looking. They had. Some of them had never stopped. Daryl's eyes had stayed downcast with every mile that past. Even the others, the newcomers, they watched too. No one. Not one of them had seen anything.

It could be a coincidence. Some sort of cosmic joke; it wasn't unlike they weren't in the center of one anyways. The cottage came into view and her heart sped up. There were no signs of life there, either. The windows were dark, no smoke from the chimney.

Carol dared to wonder if she called out her name would the cottage door swing open? Would Beth be standing there in the frame, waiting? It almost felt like too much to hope for. For all, she knew whoever had agreed to stay at the cottage was long gone by now.

Who was to say it was Beth at all? The thought of a reunion like that seemed almost too good for this world.

Still, that little broken and misguided voice in her head practically sang as she pushed the rusted gate open.

 **xxx**

There had been no time to grieve. No time to mourn. They had to put it away out of necessity. There was no lull in which they could bask in their misery. Other things compounded on it. Dehydration, hunger. If she was being honest with herself, she isn't quite sure that she could pick out a day or an instance where it had crossed her mind in the last months. There was always something else - the living demanding their attention. There was no time to spend with the ghosts, the memories. Maybe at Alexandria for that brief period, that had been the closest that they'd come. Beth would have liked it there.

Now guilt is rising up in her like bile in her throat.

She had been one of the last to see her. Shots ringing off in the distance from an unknown source, a herd moving in. They needed to move – and fast. The body, Beth, they couldn't take her. There were no speeches, no preparations. There was no time. Carol had been amazed they had been able to lay her body down, Daryl's grip on her had been vicelike. He would have carried her to the ends of the earth if he could have, she'd seen it in his eyes. It was like she was tearing off a piece of him as she eased Beth's body out of his hands.

"We need to go. _Now_ ."

A car would be her crypt. A far cry from the burial she deserved. Calling it a burial or anything close to ceremonial would have been generous. With no clothes to spare, the best they could do was hang old moth-eaten seat covers. They hung them over the little hooks atop the windows on the interior. There was no time to wrap the body, that had been the only ounce of dignity they could afford.

Carol had been the one to drag her fingers along the inside of the car windows as Maggie watched on. Sweeping grimy sections clear in a hurried motion. The only cross they could give her. The only funeral that time and circumstance would allow. That's where they'd left her. In that old rusting four-door.

There's no way. No logical way. She had been dead. Death was their world now, every day they faced it and there was no way to mistake it and yet...

In her mind, that little voice says there's a chance. The same voice that had told her one day Ed would have a change of heart. That he would see the light and his arms would only rise to embrace her, not to inflict pain. Or one day they would wake up to a better world. A voice that she had learned to ignore. The blind, misplaced optimism that would only lead to more. There's no ignoring it now, that voice, louder than ever. It's saying maybe.

Just maybe.

 **xxx**

He had wanted her to stay. The King had welcomed her, not quite with open arms but as well as someone like her, with her affiliations could be received. Word of her arrival with the children had spread fast. By the time they dragged themselves back through the gates, she was greeted by nothing but fear and uncertainty. She may as well had a sign hanging off of her back proclaiming her allegiance to her. It made sense. She was the first of their group to ever step foot inside of the Kingdom. Ezekiel had seen to that, keep the Saviors away from the stronghold and his flock.

The kids had wanted her to stay but she loathed the idea. Being inside, behind the walls. The only one of her kind there, alone. Even if Ezekiel meant her no harm, what was to stop the others who glared at her as she walked by?

With fewer people, she might have considered it. The outing into the forest had taken its toll. Everything ached, her head spun. Staying there would have only led to suffocation.

The cottage had been his idea. If she wouldn't stay with them in the Kingdom she could at least rest at the cottage until she felt ready to make the trek back. That's what he had said. The cottage was outside the walls, in a little-uninhabited area. At first, she'd been against it. She needed to get back to the outpost, but after a brief consideration (and a bout of throwing up) her mind was changed. Going back on foot would be bad, especially in the dark in her shape. Gavin and the others already assumed she was dead anyway, being gone for another day wouldn't tip the scales or cause some sort of meltdown in the system.

Besides, there was a pick up a day away. If she hung around long enough she could make her grand reappearance then when Gavin came for the produce.

The big guy, Jerry, had seen her off with an old plastic bag full of food. A few sandwiches, a container filled with a helping of what he said was the best peach cobbler she'll have tasted in her life; seeing is that Beth's got no idea if she's ever had peach cobbler before, it's entirely likely he'll be right. As well as a couple bottles of water and a handful of fresh fruit. Far more generous than they needed to be in her opinion, but she knew better than to deny food.

She had wolfed down the sandwiches fast. Before she had even reached the cottage they were gone which in hindsight had been a terrible idea, half the reason why she was in the state she was now. As Ezekiel had promised, the cottage was empty. Still, she did a sweep anyway. Someone had been staying there. The place wasn't covered in the fine layer of dust that most abandoned houses now. It didn't matter, so long as they weren't there now she didn't really give a shit.

In addition to the food, they had also armed her again. Hadn't withheld a single weapon, though judging from the looks that she got as she slipped the various knives back into their places – they weren't doing it out of the goodness of their hearts. They'd even given her back the gun. Now the knives she'd expected but the gun, the gun was a surprise.

Since she was staying the night, she set the cottage up as she would any other stop. Set up the exits. Doors and windows to bolt through. Spare weapons spread across the premises to grab at a moment's notice.

Like any other stop, Beth also takes the liberty of sifting through its contents. She's got a night to kill anyways, and if someone isn't currently living there surely they won't miss a couple of the books or a few table clothes, there's a raincoat in the hall closet that she knows will go quickly among either the run crew or the hunters. She even marks the place, the same as she would any of them. The same way she signs her notes, the same symbol that adorns her log books. How the others know that it's her – this is where she's been.

Anyone from her outpost – anyone on a run would know. It's her shadowmark, that's what Haley called it. Those wings that she had such an affinity for. That she'd adopted as her own. It was strange how it had caught on the way it had; she supposes it's something to do with the nickname. It's Bird after all, even if there isn't really much about the wings that suggest they'd been modeled after a bird. They look like angel's wings to her. Always had. Which was even stranger, given that they're on the back of a leather vest that like those she's only ever seen the Saviors resident bike enthusiasts wear. What sort of biker wore a big 'ole pair of angel wings.

That could be why she liked them so much. How obscure they seemed. Out of place, just like her. They didn't quite belong and yet there they were. They existed in this world, just like she did. Could be why she was fixated on them the second Dwight rode in with the vest on. Beth had considered trading for the vest. Once she got it under her fingertips (she'd taken a look at it while Dwight had been in the shower) it just felt...nice. A dozen sizes too big for her but there was something about it that just spoke to her. The leather, the faint smell of smoke that she attributed to Dwight – one of the few people that she considered to be a friend, or as close as she could get to one. When that vest was in sight she knew there was someone who would watch her back nearby, someone who on some level understood her. How screwed up she was. Probably why it provided her with an ounce of comfort. Too bad there was nothing she had to trade that he'd want. The only thing she could think of was Sadie and that wasn't an offer she was ever going to be making.

In the unlikely event any of Gavin's people came through, they'd see the wings she'd traced out with a shaky hand on the window panels in the door, and the ones in the living room and they'd know that at the very least she'd made it this far.

For whatever that was worth.

The pile of items she planned on taking was carefully stacked on dining room table. She had just pried open the container that held the cobbler when a fresh wave of nausea hit. There was no point in rushing to the bathroom. Instead, she heaved herself over the sink.

That was also about the time that Sadie left her post by her side for the first time since entering the cottage. Beth didn't notice at first, too busy trying to keep her hair out of the mess that now covered the sink. Only when she heard the soft growl did she look up. She wiped her mouth with the back of her sleeve and reached for the gun in its holster. Ezekiel had said she wouldn't be bothered.

They had never gotten to the fine art of getting Sadie to differentiate between walkers and humans. Most of the time she regarded them with equal amounts of disdain anyways. As long as Sadie did her job and alerted her to the presence she didn't care how the dog did it.

There's no cover in the tiny kitchen but Sadie's growling louder now and the door is opening. All she's ever known is fight or flight. Right now the most direct route out is through the very door that's being pushed open. That leaves one option. She's vulnerable, thanks to the guard asshole who had taken the liberty of doling out a concussion.

The door opens and she whistles.

Sadie flies through the air at the intruding figure. The rifle they're carrying smacking against the wood. Turning in an effort to avoid Sadie's teeth latching on their arm Beth advances fast while Sadie jumps and snaps. She finally opts for a pant leg, teeth sinking into the fabric and shaking like her life depends on it. The stranger is going for something on their belt but she has the gun pressed against their back.

Beth jabs the stranger with the muzzle, hard. " _Don't_." She hisses.

It's startling how quickly it works. Their hands drop to their sides and they freeze. She can't remember a time that it's ever worked that quickly. Why lose the momentum? "Put the rifle down and keep your hands out where I can see them." There's a split second hesitation and then the stranger is slipping the strap off of their shoulder, cautiously setting the rifle down against the archway. "Turn around."

Beth takes a step back. The stranger turns, hands raised at their side just like she'd told them to. It's a woman, older, short gray hair. No one she recognizes from any of the outposts, no one she'd seen during her short stint at the Kingdom. Her eyes are blown wide. It's a look she's familiar with. Like she's seeing a ghost.

She's gotten it before. She looks like everyone's first kiss, kid sister, cousin, girlfriend, you name it and she's been compared to it. Especially early on before soft edges had been worked out. Mac had always said it's the big eyes and the fact that she's just a slip of a thing. She looks like the girl next door, whatever that means. People these days are always looking for something familiar, a scrap of comfort. Just unfortunate they keep finding it in her.

"Who are you?" She hisses between gritted teeth. The woman's a bit taller, she doesn't look like much but looks are deceiving. It's too dangerous to judge at a glance like that.

The woman looks as if she's speaking some sort of alien language. The expressions on her face are shifting so quickly that Beth can hardly read them. There is a constant one in her eyes though. Fear, fear, and pain. "Don't make me ask again."

"I-" She starts, shakes her head like she's trying to snap out of something. " _Beth_."

The way she says it. Beth can practically hear her heartbreaking. That's never a good sign. It puts her on high alert. It could be a coincidence, plenty of people went by Beth. She knows at least four at the outpost. "You're Beth?" She repeats slowly, cautiously.

She shakes her head again. This time it's clearly a no. Now there's one expression that she can read loud and clear: confusion.

"How are you-" She takes a step forward, as she does Beth takes one back, keeping the gun level. She takes any more steps and the thing's liable to go off. This only seems to further the confusion and heartbreak. The woman looks like she might cry. This is not the appropriate reaction to have when someone's got a gun trained on you unless you're trying for some sympathy vote. If she is, she's shit out of luck.

Beth doesn't even know what she's trying for because she can barely string together a goddamn sentence. "Ezekiel told me that I could find you here." Goddammit. Of course. So much for leaving her alone. Was peace so much to ask for? She'd made it clear she didn't want to stay there – hang around his lot. Why the hell would he send someone out to her? "Beth put the gun down." To her credit, her voice only slightly wavers when she says it.

So she knows her name, too. One of the kids probably sold her out for a freakin' chocolate bar. She wouldn't put it past them.

"That's not going to happen. Why are you here?" She's just about snarling now.

"I had to see if..." Something shifts then. This moment she's familiar with too when the confusion gives way to something else. The realization that they've got the wrong damn girl. "Don't you remember me?" It's coming on too slowly for her liking.

If this woman is from the Kingdom then there's one card she can play. One that could stop this in its tracks.

"I'm Negan." She grinds out.

Fuck, she hates the way it sounds in her mouth. She always has. The first time she had ever said it, there had been a spattering of a dead cop's blood all over her face and piss running down the leg of her pants. She'd had to say it. Every time she's said it, it had been out of necessity. Feels like cursing when she does. No, actually it's worse than cursing. Cursing comes easy but forcing that name – that fucking name out of her throat may as well be the most disgusting thing she's ever said.

She doesn't want to say it, but she has to. It's better for both of them. The woman will know what it means and she'll stop dead. That's the hope because if she continues there's no promise that she's going to stay as cool and composed as she is now.

Her tolerance for bullshit is only so high.

It works. The woman's head snaps as if she'd been slapped. There's a flicker of something – anger or possibly That crosses her features but it passes as quickly as it had appeared. Invoking Negan's name seems to do that to people.

"You're a Savior." Beth almost breathes out a sigh of relief. Finally, they're on the same page. Her entire demeanor has changed. She's pulled herself together, standing taller. Now she looks like she's all business. It's a welcome change, honestly. That's easier to manage than someone who is seeing ghosts of their dead whatever's.

The words come out cool. Whatever she had been feeling, she's locked it down. There's barely a hint of it on her still."Ezekiel was worried about you. He said that you were sick and wanted someone to check on you."

Of course, he fucking did.

"My name's Carol. I'm not going to hurt you." The woman says cautiously, nodding towards the firearm that Beth's still got a death grip on. "Why don't you put that down?" The thing is, she really doesn't want to. Beth doesn't move but Carol is clearly not expecting her to actually fire the weapon because she moves away, Sadie following close on her heels and waiting for the command. Her eyes sweep over the table and the small pile of items that Beth had planned on liberating. "Were you planning on robbing me?" Jesus, the tone of the woman's voice now is almost motherly. That type of tone that only someone with child rearing experience can produce

She hadn't pulled out much. A few books, two of which were old hymnals that she's positive Haley will get a kick out of, a raincoat, a tiny sewing kit she'd found stuck in a vase, an odd pair of socks, an old leather belt to name a few. "He told me that no one was living here."

"Did he?" Carol only shakes her heads, like it's funny. Slowly, Beth lowers the gun. "The wings on the glass – was that you?" Carol glances up from the pile expectantly. Beth flinches under her gaze. Well, she had put them there to be noticed.

No, Beth wants to bite back. Sadie did it. She opts for silence instead.

Carol's measuring her up. She can feel it. Not because she's about to strike, no it's something else. She's trying to get a read on her. "You can leave now." Beth motions towards the still open door.

"The doctor's said you had a concussion. Being alone out here isn't smart." Is that something akin to concern in her voice?

She lets out a bitter little laugh. "I've had worse." A concussion was the tip of the iceberg. Besides, she'd done her rounds on this little cottage. It was safe enough, she hadn't seen signs of any walkers nearby. It's an improvement to her usual sleeping-bag-in-an-abandoned-car-or-forest-floor routine. Besides, who cares if something happens to her now anyway? She'd done her job. The kids were safe. Her group was safe, each one of them had arrived at the Kingdom unharmed. If there was a time to go out, it was now. While it's quiet, alone in the dark, away from the fighting and bloodshed. "Are you leaving now?" Beth asks, clearly irritated.

"Are you?"

Oh, it's tempting. It's getting dark but she would feel more comfortable with the walkers than she would with this woman. "That's what I thought." Carol brushes past her and Beth jumps backward like she's expecting an impact. She picks up the rifle and shuts the door. Rather than train it on her, she sets it back down on the table. Clearly non-pulsed. "You aren't going to shoot me."

"How do you know?"

"You would have done it already if you were going to."

Fine. Beth thinks ruefully. She's not putting her gun on the table though, not a hope in hell. Besides, she still has those carefully placed knives if it comes to needing something at hand and she's not quick enough to draw the gun from its holster.

"You should be resting." Carol presses as she reaches for a box of matches on the mantlepiece. This time, Beth actually does laugh. Carol doesn't find it all that amusing as it turns out.

Yeah. Fat chance of that happening now. Sadie wanders from her post at her side, trailing after Carol as the woman kneels in front of the fireplace. Clearly, one of them has decided that Carol isn't much of a threat. A guard dog, Sadie was not. Beth doesn't miss how Carol keeps a close eye on the dog who is sniffing around her, Sadie had been attached to her pant leg a short time ago.

Beth stands silently at the table, watching Carol lights the fire. She isn't taking her eyes off of her, not a freakin' chance of that happening.

* * *

 **A/N:** Oh boy. This chapter.

I will admit, it isn't my favorite so far. I'm still not happy with it but what can you do? That happens once and awhile. My fangirl heart wanted a much different reunion but I had to take a few things into consideration. My favorite part of it was the beginning, writing from Carol's POV. I was worried that might come across as a bit wonky (it's been the Beth show to this point) but it felt like a necessity to put that in. It's much easier to write out people feeling emotions than it is to write people hiding them, apparently.

1) Beth's current status. She's injured, probably concussed, emotionally worn out.  
2) Carol is feeling ALL OF THE EMOTIONS. Rest assured, despite how the chapter ends I'm not shelving her feelings forever. As Beth would say, Carol's putting it away (for now) I needed to write the introductory portion in her POV to show that yes, the idea of Beth returning from the dead is a big freakin' deal. The reason why Carol doesn't push is that she's received warnings from Ezekiel and Jerry about Beth's status and temperament. Beth shows absolutely no recognition towards her. It would be plainly obvious that Beth's not lying, either. She has no idea who Carol is. Now factor in that Beth's injured, she's armed (and talks a big game about being ready to shoot) does Carol really want to set her off by dragging her down memory lane? That's why I have Carol reign it in. Internally, you know she's feeling a heck of a lot of emotions but would showing any of them be a good idea? No. Carol's smart, she can obviously see that how she's reacting is only ramping Beth up. Carol's taking in the situation, you know she's formulated some sort of game plan. She's already working on what to do next. I think for the time being her sole goal would be to keep Beth calm and keep her at the cottage.

I was torn whether or not I wanted to have a reveal like this so 'early' on but ultimately, this will help with pacing so I'm glad I didn't talk myself out of this.

I took major inspiration for how Carol handles her reunion with Beth from 4x14: The Grove. Which is probably my favorite episode of the series to date. In particular, the scene in which Carol and Tyreese confront Lizzie after they return and find Mika dead.

The layout of the cottage is a little wonky but we're going with it. It's for the best.

As always, thank you for reading! If you get a chance let me know what you guys think so far. Comments are my lifeblood.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note** : Hey guys!

Okay so first thing's first. A little while ago saltywintershe-wolf on tumblr mentioned that she might be drawing *our* Beth, as mentioned in this story. The short of it is that she did and HOLY CRAP. It is amazing! You may have seen it in the Bethyl or Beth Greene tags on tumblr. If not you should absolutely take a look and you can do so here: [ /saltywinterartist ] and while you're there be sure to check out some of their other fanart c:

Second thing's second. I lamented about the last chapter being long? Little did I know how Chapter 5 would pan out. So many words. I was a little worried about having so much happening in one chapter would go but I think I've got just enough here before reaching that "Well gee, this seems excessive" stage. That said this chapter DOES jump around a little bit but hopefully ya'll don't get too much of a headache. It is necessary jumping though I assure you. On the upside this chapter is, I believe a bit lighter than the previous ones.

As always this sucker is unbeta'd so any mistakes are my own!  
I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"A chair might be more comfortable."

Carol's right. A chair would be more comfortable than the spot she's jammed herself into in the corner, legs folded up against her chest with Sadie laying at her feet. The fire is going strong now. It provide just enough light in the dining room. Carol doesn't seem worried about attracting attention, walkers or otherwise that the smoke from the thing might beckon.

Beth fought sleep. She fought it like a child, blankly staring in response to the all too radical suggestion of rest. She needed it. Carol could see it in the girl's eyes. Despite Beth's best efforts, nature won out. That was a surprise, she had been so hellbent on keeping her eyes open and locked on her. Every time she so much as breathed too loudly, Beth was watching her as if she expected an assault to be launched.

It's not difficult to move around the cabin while she's asleep. To do it without waking her up. The dog stays awake, still watching her, but apparently she's not interesting enough for the thing to alert Beth. That serves her purpose just fine.

There'd been a pack underneath the table; which she assumed Beth had brought. She had probably planned on filling it up with her haul, too. There wasn't much in there. An emergency blanket, the shiny-tinfoil esque type, some glow sticks, a small sewing kit in an old pocket sized mint tin, socks, shoelaces, a flashlight. The most interesting thing was the red duo-tang. The sort that Sophia had used in school, back when children attended. The cover is bent, white stress lines and little tears all around the edges showing signs of overuse. Each page inside of it secured in a clear plastic sleeve to preserve the contents.

They're pictures. It's a comic – that much is obvious. It's hand drawn, too. There's still pencil marks visible beneath the heavy black lines – smudges from whatever medium had been used over top of the outlines. The first page is predominantly a picture; it looked like someone had drawn something only to cut the image up to rearrange it on the page. Wrists and ankles strapped down to a bed, a face half covered by bandages.

It's Beth.

There's a page where it looks like she's in a hospital, then it skips. The next scene is outside, a small group on their knees surrounded by gun-toting men. A man standing in front of her with a barbed wire wrapped bat. An up close look at her eyes, wide with terror with a splattering of something on the side of her face.

Carol thumbs through the pages, angling closer towards the fireplace to get a better look. The same man with the bat is leading Beth into a room full of women. Beth isn't alone, there's someone with glasses standing beside her. She recognizes him almost immediately, from the hospital.

Negan is what the doctors calls him. He's introducing Beth to the women, his 'wives'. Beth's eyes are downcast, Edwards looks concerned. Every speech bubble the man has, and he has many, is explaining why Beth wouldn't be a good fit – not right now. She's violent, unpredictable. She's not all there mentally – a little slow. He mentions the scars, too. They wont ever really fade. The scars, which Negan regretfully declares _'freak him the fuck out. Looking at them would be goddamn weird'_ Edwards emphasizes with time she might be okay but not right now.

Who did this? Had Beth drawn these? She glances up from the page at the sleeping girl whose hand had fallen to her belt, resting on the holster of her gun. Beth gets moved, away from Negan to recover. A whole different outpost with a whole different leader.

There's pages depicting fighting. Which, given how often the scene pops up throughout Carol's convinced that it's more training than anything. There's two deaths. One, Beth is out with a group on a Code Orange. Whatever that is – it doesn't go well. There's a firefight and Beth ends up in the thick of it. She's holding something to a mans throat, it could be wire or cord (like what she wears around her wrists, according to Jerry) and clearly she holds on too long. The other men have to pry her away, shouting at her to walk away while they desperately try to revive the man on the ground. There's no emotion in her face the entire page.

There's none when they lead her stripped down to her underwear to what looks like a utility closet, bolted from the outside. It had been an accident, she hadn't meant to kill him. It wasn't her fault. She didn't mean it, she only meant to knock him out. No one told her how long to hold on – she hadn't held on for that long. Ultimately, it didn't matter.

The next one sends a shiver down her spine. According to a large block of print at the top of the page, this instance happens only a few weeks after the strangulation had occurred. Again Beth is out with a group, again there is a death.

This time it isn't an accident. There's no pleading when she returns to the outpost to face the man, Gavin. Clearly the one in charge. There's nothing in the way the artist had drawn her to suggest that she felt anything while she tells him that he deserved it. That the man beat his wife, that doesn't happen there. They have rules. He _had to die._ Someone should have done it ages ago.

Gavin is furious with her. Which, the artist depicts in great detail. There are rules he agrees but it is not her job to enforce them. They don't do that he laments– they don't pull their gun and execute people without so much as a second thought. He can't believe she did it, she knows better than that. Beth disagrees. Maintaining that the man got what he deserved – Negan would have been okay with it.

The writing in Gavin's speech bubble gets much smaller, as if to indicate a whisper as he leads Beth back to the familiar door. The one with the deadbolt on the outside. She steps inside, steely eyed and defiant as he closes it on her. We _aren't Negan._ That's what had been inked in that little bubble.

 _We_ _aren't Negan._

She wants so badly to wake her up. What had she just read? In the back of her mind she already knows. It may be a comic but it isn't fiction. Someone recorded actual events. The attention to detail is notable, what else could it be?

Beth had declared herself a Savior. She had come from an outpost, that much Ezekiel had shared with her. Had she put up with routine beatings for the sake of training? Had she killed? Was any of it real?

Somehow beyond a shadow of a doubt it's so painfully clear.

"You went through my things," Carol almost jumps at the sound of the hoarse voice that comes from the dark corner. The flames flicker in her eyes. The same cold look that had been depicted time and time again in the drawings.

Carol slowly closes the front cover, letting it rest on her lap. "Your bag fell."

Beth scoffs. "It didn't."

"You're right," What was the point in lying? The bag hadn't been on the table. "Did you draw these?" Carol holds up the folder but Beth isn't looking. She's tilted her head back, shutting her eyes. Effectively covering herself in shadows.

"Can barely draw a straight line." She laughs, but it's quiet and bitter.

So no, it wasn't her. Someone had done it for her then. "Did any of this happen?"

There's shuffling in the corner. The shadowy figure rising from it's spot and Carol tenses, her fingers finding that so-familiar hilt of her knife where it's set in it's sheath. "Why? Don't think someone like me could do anything like _that_?" So she knows what's shown in the pages.

Beth's bypassed her and is at the table, picking through the contents of the bag that Jerry had packed for her until she settles on the cobbler. She pops the lid off and without a second thought, dips her fingers inside. "Everybody's killed somebody." Beth says with a shrug as she lifts a hunk of peaches and crumble into her mouth. The way she says it, like she's saying the sky is blue or that water is wet.

Everybody's killed somebody.

"There's a difference between an accident and an execution." Beth freezes mid-handful. Carol sees no point in hiding the fact that she's read the contents. What did it matter now? She's expecting her to lash out, it feels like she's going to. The air is thick with it, the anger that's rolling off of Beth in waves. Instead Beth does nothing. Says nothing, just goes back to scooping the cobbler out of the container like it's her last meal on earth.

"You should slow down." To which, Beth scoffs at. Apparently not one who enjoyed taking direction. Beth polishes off the rest of the container at a questionable rate after that.

And she throws it all up not long after.

Carol hovers as Beth pitches herself over the side of the sink. She wants to do something. Put a comforting hand on her back, tell her it'll be fine and if she just settles down it'll all go away. Something tells her that Beth will just as soon as shove a knife into her gut than actually listen. Instead, she sets a dishcloth and a part filled bottle of water down beside the think and reutnrs to the fire.

It's quiet the rest of the night. The most noise comes from Sadie, occasionally Beth lets out a groan or a curse. She looks worse now, too. Carol's positive that it's not a trick of the light. She should be seen by doctors again, there's got to be something that Ezekiel could spare to at least ease the symptoms a little. It's just after dawn when she finally rises, the fire having died out. "Come on, get up."

Beth barely looks after her. "We're going back."

"I'm not."

"You ate all of your food, there's no more water, I don't have anything to spare. We'll get you some new supplies and then you can do whatever you want." Beth tilts her head back, squinting up at her. It's the first proper look that she's gotten at the scar. Carol's heart stills in her chest. It stills seems so surreal, like she's stepped into the Twilight Zone. She can't help but wonder if she will ever get used to the sight – if she will ever have the chance to become used to it.

 _"Fine."_

"Fine." Carol repeats. One thing at a time.

 **xxx**

"No, Ezekiel it's her. The scars are...it's Beth." Carol's pacing back and forth in the bedroom. At Ezekiel's request, Jerry had whisked Beth away to get her the aforementioned supplies, to kill time. Ezekiel's perched himself on the edge of the bed, face grim. He'd asked if she was sure, of course she was.

"Did Beth have a child?" This stops her from wearing a hole right through the carpet, that he'd suggested she'd managed if she continued her current path.

Beth had been a child herself at the fall of the prison. Unless she'd gotten _pregnant_ before. Even that seemed impossible. She had boyfriends but she was a smart girl. After Lori, no one was taking risks like that. The youngest at the prison had been Judith, there hadn't been any other children. Daryl hadn't mentioned a child. "No," she says slowly "Why?"

"There was a second group sent from the outpost. They were heading towards the Hilltop. I sent a messenger after your Beth and the others returned to speak with Maggie and inquire as to the fate of the second group."

He had mentioned the second group, but had placed emphasis on the fact that they had been too late. As soon as Beth had shared the information he had sent a team out to scour the area and all that they had come up with was gore and walkers. A few of which Beth had confirmed had been her people. There had been no real reason to assume anyone had gotten away alive. "A man showed up at their gates with a baby in a carrier and a dog on his shoulders. He pleaded with them to send someone out to look for his wife. A girl who, by the vague description I received seems to match that of your Beth."

A baby? A wife? "They're Saviors. Does Maggie know?"

Ezekiel nods slowly. "No." He doesn't sound entirely happy to say it, either Carol notes. "From everything that I have gathered myself from the children, most of their escorts were supposed to return to the outpost once the children were safe. There was nothing to indicate malicious intent. I thought it best not to tell."

Carol says nothing. That doesn't seem right, but she trusts him. Trusts his judgment. If there were an immediate threat he wouldn't have sat idly by. He would have sent more than a scout to the Hilltop. Ezekiel reaches out, pressing a hand to her elbow. She knows exactly what he is going to say, she can see it in his eyes. He'll be telling her to sit and take a breathe any second now. That's the absolute last thing she needs to do.

"I know this may be difficult to hear but perhaps this was for the best."

The first time she had ever seen Ezekiel Carol can recall the distinct feeling, being utterly dumbfounded by his presence. A man on a stage with a throne and a tiger. It was perhaps the most ludicrous thing she had ever witnessed in her life. This, what he's insinuating now is a very close second.

"She's one of the Saviors. She has no idea who I am – God she probably doesn't even know who she is."

"But she _is_ alive."

Absolutely, completely dumbfounded.

"What if you and the others had realized that she had been alive? You mentioned your time on the road, before you were found by Alexandria's requiters. She was severely wounded, you had little in the way of supplies. Her wounds would have needed to be tended to, kept clean. You do not know the state she was in – From my understanding with a trauma like that it would be unlikely that she would have been able to walk on her own for some time. You would have had to carry her. She would have needed round the clock care. What if the wound had become infected? Or perhaps another complication might have risen. What if she had survived, only to die before you reached Alexandria because you were not prepared for the burden of her care?"

Her instinct is to whirl around and shoot down his every point. Stare him right in the eyes and tell him that they could have done it. They could have taken care of her, they could have tended to her wounds. They would have taken turns, they could have found something to move her on – made some sort of make-shit stretcher. They would have kept her alive. The wishful part of her mind clashes violently with the logical part. The part that knows everything that he is saying was true.

"She was taken care of. She survived and now she's found you."

Carol can feel her cheeks flush, her vision blurring on the edges. She's tried so hard to keep it bottled up. There had been no place for the display at the cottage, it might have only served to encourage Beth to shoot her if she'd broken down into tears. "She doesn't remember me."

Ezekiel smiles at her. It's a sad sort of half smile, but a smile all of the same. "It sounds horrible to suggest I know but perhaps – leaving her behind was the best thing that you could have done for her. You know that she is out there now. You know that she's alive."

Alive. Yes.

"Where there is life there is hope." He adds softly. Hope. Carol hiccups, swiping her palm over her eyes as if to wipe the tears away before Ezekiel can see them. "Perhaps in time..." She knows what he is going to suggest, how he's trying to comfort her. It is a nice thought – Beth not looking at her and seeing nothing. Just a flicker of recognition would be enough.

Ezekiel doesn't continue. She already knows. He can see how it hurts her, every emotion she'd buried down deep upon entering the cottage the night before was clawing it's way out of her one after the other.

She draws a breath despite how it hurts. Crying about it wont solve anything, it wont change anything. He is right. She's alive, and that on it's own is something. It's more than something. "You have a collection today, don't you?" Ezekiel nods, pressing a hand to her shoulder and giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I want to go with you." Her voice is firm when she speaks, barely wavering. He'll understand that it's not a request, she is going with him. The leader who collected from the Kingdom graced Ezekiel and the others each time a tribute was made. Beth's _leader_.

 **xxx**

They don't take all of her weapons this time. The handgun and holster are taken away but they leave her with the rest. A bold move. She felt a little better, the eyes on her as they walked through the Kingdom grounds bothered her a little less. If anything happened at least she could defend herself properly. Ezekiel would take her with him when they left to meet with Gavin. Unfortunately, that meeting wasn't for another hour and a half.

Ezekiel suggested that Jerry give her a tour to fill the time. First they let her keep her knives, now they're letting her see the inner workings. Not even Gavin had been this close. Not ever. All of their meetings were offsite. That was part of the deal that they had struck, for the sake of Ezekiel's people. She's the first one to ever be allowed within the walls.

The Kingdom looks like a resort compared to the outpost. There's children outside practising music instruments, others on a makeshift archery range. There's a group set up with easels working on paintings. People hanging out laundry to dry on an extensive network of clothes lines. They look happy – content. The outpost feels like a cage in hindsight, a prison.

They are passing by what looks it had been a garden at some point when she hears it. A high pitched whinnying. The sound is so alien to her that she freezes in her tracks. "What the hell is that?" Walkers don't sound like that. Was it a child?

Jerry gives her a look. A look that only makes her feel like she's crazy. "It's just one of the horses."

Horses? They have horses?

"Here, I'll show you."

She's never seen horses before. In movies or on TV, she's seen pictures in magazines but in real life? No. There's something incredibly intimidating about the creatures that enter her field of view when Jerry pulls back the make-shift stable gate. They're _massive._ Sadie's also a bit taken a back by the sight (and smell) she looks like she's torn between being excitement and fear. There's at least six of them. She's too wrapped up in the sight to notice that Jerry's watching her, completely bemused. "Wait – have you never been around horses before?"

Beth gives a derisive snort. As if to say of course she has. "Why keep them? How do you feed them?"

Jerry moves to her side and extends a hand and presses it against the muzzle of the closest horse. The animal doesn't seem to mind. If anything, Beth swears it leans into the touch. "Quieter than a car, don't have to worry about gas." That actually makes sense. If they could supply them with food which they could probably grow. A horse would be far better than a car, long term."You can pet it if you want. Just like this."

She wants to. It's tempting to feel how the shining gold coat would feel underneath her fingertips but she holds back, just shakes her head. Because they're horses – she can't be freaking out over horses. She's not a child. They spend a few more minutes in the stables. Jerry pulls an apple out of a nearby basket, offering it up to her to feed to one of them. Which she declines. They all have names and personalities, according to him.

"Come on. I've got something else to show you. You're gonna love this."

By this point they've been around almost the entirety of the property. She severely doubts that, he is very much over estimating her feelings regarding the horses.

He leads her back inside and through a large room filled with seats and a stage. There's a back door beyond it, which leads to a dimly lit room. She can't see much from the doorway and it doesn't help that he blocks the rest out. "It's alright," But is it really?

Her guard goes up as she crosses the threshold. There's something she can hear now. Heavy breathing. Her hand finds the hilt of one of the knives. Jerry steps aside and makes a sweeping motion with his arm. As soon as he does a growl ripples through the room. "Um...could you leave her out here?" Jerry asks, motioning to Sadie.

Beth immediately jumps back and her knife is in her hand. This is of some concern to her escort. She's facing a large cage. The source of the sound being a monstrous creature inside. "It's alright, S."

She knows what it is. The horses had been impressive but this. He may as well have shown her a dragon or a unicorn. So the rumours were true. The Kingdom had a tiger. "She's a friend."

That's funny, because she's not a friend. They aren't friends. As if the cat understood, she sits and stares at her through the bars. Beth's never felt a heavier gaze land on her in her life. Those piercing golden eyes strike her right to her core. Jerry glances down at the knife that she's gripping close to her side. "She can't get out, so you're safe. So you can put that away."

"She's a _tiger._ "

"Her name's Shiva. She's the King's." Of course she is. Why does he have a tiger? Nevermind why – how does he have a tiger?

Beth lowers the knife but she doesn't stow it just yet. She takes a careful step towards the cage. The animal doesn't flinch. "She's like a normal cat. Just bigger." Well, she's never seen a normal cat before either. "You should see what she does when you give her a box." Jerry chuckles.

Beth doesn't understand what he's saying. May as well be gibberish. It's a fool thing to do but she can't help it, the way the cat becomes the sole point of her attention. She's amazing. Maybe the most amazing thing that she's ever laid eyes on

She's not sure why she does it. "Maybe don't-"Jerry starts to warn her but it's too late. She's barely even aware of the fact that her hand is moving until it's in the cage, stuck right through the bars. Her fingers are trembling something fierce but all she can think is what the fur must feel like. She looks so soft. She's always had an affinity for putting herself in harms way. There are just some things, stupid or not, that her mind insists she do. Her whole arm shakes now as Shiva carefully inspects her hand.

She can feel the creature's hot breathe against her skin and it's terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time. Beth wishes that Haley were here. The girl would lose her goddamn mind. What a chapter this would make in her story.

Shiva leans in and Beth's eyes snap shut. She's anticipating pain. She can see the cat's teeth quite clearly and it's a tiger. Even Jerry is tense, he doesn't seem like a guy who gets tense easily. There's no pain. Just something impossibly soft. There's pressure on her hand, like it's being pushed.

"Huh," Beth cracks an eye open. She can't bring herself to look at the cage. Jerry however, she can look at Jerry. Jerry looks impressed. "I guess she likes you."

He confirms what on some level she already knows. There's no blood, she hadn't been bitten. The cat's pressing against her hand with it's head, almost like it's welcoming the dares to curl her fingers against the great cat's head, carefully scratching a patch behind her ear that she seems to enjoy.

Beth's overcome by an emotion she's not sure she's ever felt. Suddenly she's light, she's laughing. The sound is so foreign to her ears. When's the last time that she had laughed? Actually laughed? God, she's got no idea.

 **xxx**

Ezekiel comes to get them after awhile. Beth had a difficult time tearing herself away from Shiva. One of the other guards had mentioned they had come this way. After a few minutes Beth sank to the floor and finally put her knife away. She and Jerry talk. Well, sort of. Mostly she asks about Shiva. If she stays in the cage, which Beth hopes isn't the case. That seems almost criminal. She can move and stretch comfortably but it's so bare, save for what she assumes are food and water dishes. When Jerry says that Ezekiel keeps her out of the cage more often than not, that's even more mind boggling.

The conversation swayed at some point to the children. She'd asked if Ezekiel would allow them to stay. Which, from Jerry's reaction was an insane question. "What else would they do with them?" He'd asked incredulously.

They'll be safe enough here. Now that she'd seen the bones of the place, they were strong. Lacking in some things. Crops for example, something had happened to some of them resulting in a purge. Burning down existing patches and sewing new seeds. Which would put a temporary strain on their food stores. Then there was the medical. They had a clinic set up, a proper one. It reminded her much of what she'd seen of the hospital. The only problem being, while they had the supplies they lacked the person ell. Most of the guard had basic medical training. They were lucky enough to have a few nurses and for the time being they did have a doctor; but she wasn't doing so well. Sick herself, cancer of some sort Jerry had said. She spent all of her free time training individuals to take up her place after she passed. A passing which from what she understood, was inevitable.

That was troubling. They had food, they had walls, armed guards. What if one of the children were sick or injured? Still she said nothing about it. It wasn't like she could pack them all up and march them back. They had a medical practitioner for the time being. It was stupid to worry about that now.

She said her goodbye's to the tiger. Ezekiel watches on curiously as she does so. This time, she keeps her hand out of the cage. She's already drawn enough attention to herself.

As Carol had promised they do refill her supplies. A few sandwiches, a flashlight, another container of cobbler (Jerry gives her a knowing look when he hands her that one) and a large bottle of water. Which would be more than enough for the way back if she planned on going on foot.

Which she doesn't.

She'll go with Ezekiel and his people but duck out before they get to the meeting spot. No one will question it much if she just drops in on them, but if she exit's one of the King's trucks? That wont look good.

So Beth sits in the back of a truck with Jerry, a pile of produce, Sadie, and a few guards. Carol and Ezekiel are in the cab. The woman hasn't said word one to her since they passed through the gates. That's nice, what would they have to talk about anyways?

The truck rolls to a halt about ten minutes away from the meeting place. She grabs her bag and her dog and walks away without so much as a glance back. Not even when Jerry says goodbye. And that it was nice talking to her. Beth only rolls her eyes.

Beth eats like it's the last supper. Occasionally tearing off chunks and handing it down to Sadie. Dog's gotta eat too, after all. Plus she hadn't planned on being gone this long – she hadn't brought any of Sadie's actual food.

She keeps a steady pace to get ahead of the trucks. At least, she thinks to herself, this falls within the realm of the area that she'd usually scout out. It wouldn't be the first time that she'd vanished only to drop in on one of the groups coming or going from the outpost.

The further away she gets from the Kingdom, the more it clouds her mind. She'll have a day's worth of material for Haley. Starting from the dramatic introduction, to meeting the King himself. The tiger, Carol, Jerry. There are other things, too. Jerry had said they would have enough food but what he'd said about the doctor. The children hadn't arrived with medical supplies. Extra clothes, blankets, knives and a few guns. Eventually they would lose their doctor, quite possibly sooner than later if there was a truth to anything that Jerry had said. That fact didn't sit well with her.

But what was done, was done.

As predicted, no one looks terribly shocked when the trucks near where she's seated herself, dead centre of the road. Gavin is. She can see him through the windshield but he reigns it in. She understands. It's been what, two days? She was supposed to return right away – she should have been back that night. He'd probably assumed she was dead or something. That wouldn't have been outside of the realm of possibility.

Beth hauls herself up into the bed of the truck, securing Sadie as the speed off down the road. Going back home. Back to her own cage. At least she gets let out sometimes, too.

 **xxx**

It's about dinner by the time that they reach the outpost. There's only a small handful of people who know why she had left. None of which are there to greet her, not like anyone ever did. The people who would take the slightest interest were nowhere to be seen. Gavin had gone right to his office, telling her to stop by later on. Haley should be asleep, if she's not hunched over her sketchbook. Mac would be...training. If he were there. He'd gone with the Hilltop group though. Mac was probably never going to be training again.

She's tired, sore, pissed off. She needs a shower and she needs time with a sandbag. They head right to her room. The door's not shut when she gets there, like she'd left it a day ago. It's cracked open and pale light is flooding into the hallway.

She's too tired for this, for visitors. As she elbows the door open Sadie wiggles past and flies onto the bed and starts making all kinds of noises. There's very few people that she reacts like that for. Two that she's found so far, to be exact. Which means that it's either Haley, who has taken the liberty of moving in temporarily while her bed was not in use or someone else.

The smell of smoke hits her before anything else. It's just strong enough to suggest that someone had lit a cigarette up recently. She only knows one person who smokes.

Dwight's sitting on the edge of the bed, scratching Sadie's ears while the dog wiggles to and fro, unable to contain her excitement. There's no mistaking similar looks of relief that both Dwight and Haley are wearing when she steps into the room. "You're back, thank Christ. We were worried." The concern sounds real but Beth only shrugs it off.

Haley's practically bouncing on the edge of the old desk chair. She wants to ask, it's taking every fibre of her being to _not._ If it wasn't for the fact that Dwight was there she would have. A million questions about the run and the Kingdom, whether or not Ezekiel really does have a tiger (for the sake of the comic, it's incredibly important that she gets confirmation of that) and what happened to the others. It's just that Dwight's there.

Dwight. A man who spent his days attached firmly to Negan's side. He knows some things. He knows that she's facilitated the 'escapes' of a few non-essentials, just like she knows that he's killed at least one Code Orange as an act of mercy. Still, she's not sure that he can be trusted with this. Not now. Negan's barely holding his own as it is, if he got wind of serious internal issues it would be bad.

Dwight's made himself comfortable. The crossbow's at the foot of the bed, the vest is off. Her eyes are drawn right to it. Beth lowers herself to the edge of the mattress by the pillows. Idly running her fingers over the worn wings. There's a strange familiarity to them. She's spent enough time around Dwight. They'd done runs together, she'd watched his back, watched those wings so often. First time she'd ever seen them she wanted to touch them. It's been the same every time since. Which was friggin' weird. They didn't seem like they belonged on the vest. It was obviously biker gear. What sort of biker would have worn wings like that?

Out of place as they were she still liked them. Could see them sometimes when she shut her eyes. The image of the dirty cloth stuck behind her lids. Mac had said that if you took away the scars she looked like the church going type. Probably came from a god fearing family, probably saw pictures of angels and shit all the time. The wings could just remind her of home. There's no real memories attached to them. Just scents, of all things. Leather, dirt, and smoke. The kind from cigarettes and not proper fires. But, that was all probably from Dwight. She hadn't had a single fucking lightning rod moment since she'd woken up.

They became something of a symbol for her. She already bore the nickname Bird, and her fixation with the wings. Notes were signed with poorly sketched versions of the wings stitched onto the back of Dwight's vest. It's had become her sign. How she'd mark trails, her handiwork, looted stores. It's how she ended each and every journal entry. They were crude, but everything about her was crude now.

"What are you doing here?" It's not meant to be as cold as it is, but at least he'll be used to it. He'll know that it's not all because of him.

"You asked me to look for batteries. Found a couple packs in the market." Okay, but why was he still here? "Needed to talk to Gavin about supplies, Negan wants to press on the Hilltop and the Kingdom for more." Of course he does. Beth glances up from the vest – there's more than that. Gavin seldom leaves the outpost unless he's on a pick up or he's been summoned for a meeting. She doesn't miss the way Dwight is looking back and forth between her and Haley. Like whatever it is that's on his mind isn't suitable for all parties.

Beth huffs and pushes herself up from the side of the bed. "Hope you enjoyed your visit because we've got things to do."

Dwight cocks and eyebrow. "We?"

"You've got asses to kiss, we've got an errand to run." Beth turns to Haley who is watching on baited breathe.

 _'Grab your things,'_ The girls eyes light up as Beth signs. _'Going to see S.'_ At least – that's what she's attempting to say. Haley picks up on it, it makes enough sense that the girl shoots off of the bed and vanishes out of the room without a second glance.

"An errand, huh?" Dwight echoes thoughtfully. He wants more, but she's not giving it to him. They don't share everything. Nowadays they don't share much at all truth be knows a little bit of sign language, but not much. He has problems with remembering it which in this instance, it works in her favor. She doesn't want to explain who S is. That's a recipe for disaster.

 **xxx**

Beth tells Gavin that they're leaving. It shouldn't be long, a few hours at the minimum and overnight at the most. She's only been back at the outpost for less than a day and already she feels like climbing the walls. She's always been antsy, not a fan of confined spaces or the people that she had been forced to share them with. The events of the last few days only adding to the general anxiety that is her day to day life at the outpost. Losing the Hilltop group in it's entirety. Then that damn woman. Carol or whatever her name had been.

She needs to get out, she needs to do something productive. She had only just gotten back and already it's like the walls are starting to close in around her. That she'll suffocate if she stays there too long. This feels like it could be something. Her mind keeps wandering back to the group at the Kingdom. She had left explicit instructions that they were to be good – and it's not that she doubts that. A few of them have the capacity to be complete little shitheads but they'll be good (at least she hopes) it's the fact that she'd left them alone that bothers her. They're not technically alone, The King more than likely has them watched like hawks until they settle in at the very least. Gavin had vouched for the guy, she had experienced his courtesy firsthand. What if the kids weren't accepting? What if they didn't trust them? Then what? They needed someone there. It would be good for them to have a familiar face.

He had asked her to stay. She hadn't even considered it. She didn't belong in a place like that. She knows someone who does though. Someone who would probably thrive there. If there's as much good in that place as Gavin seems to believe, there's only one person she can think to send through those gates. That is, if they can find him.

There's a chance he'll go, if he's still alive. He's smart – smart enough to know that he needs protection, resources. He's living too close to other communities, he's picking through ruins that have already been scoured.

Haley's already waiting in the lot for her when she comes out bearing the keys and the rifles. Mandatory. At least between the two of them, one was a good shot. Haley was a natural with a gun – something Beth detested. That meant she could fight, she could be cherry-picked and dragged off for some front-line bullshit pissing contest just because she's got good eyes.

They throw their crap into the back of an old jeep. Haley eyeballs the drivers seat but there's no way that's happening. They don't have time for driving lessons right now. It's quiet for a few minutes. Haley's carding through the CD binder she's brought. Beth lifts one hand from the steering wheel, reaching over and gently nudging Haley's shoulder.

She can't sign while she's driving, but now that they're away from the outpost and other sets of eyes, that's okay. "I don't want you to get your hopes up. I haven't gotten out to drop off supplies in about a month. He might not be there just…" Her words wander off. Haley's ignoring her.

In hindsight she shouldn't have told her what they were going to do. She should have stowed their crap and hit the road. That's it. Just _mentioning_ him had been a bad idea. Haley's hopes were already up, she was already expected to deliver on a promise that she had never made. The more she thinks about it, the more Beth considers the very real possibility that he's dead. Gotten himself killed, or maybe even starved to death. The former being the most likely. With his poor survival skills and questionable hobbies that bordered on the insane, it had been amazing that he'd survived this long.

She'd given him a map, circled a large freakin' area and had told him that if he stayed inside those invisible boundaries she had set – she would try to make sure he got the supplies that he needed. Once it started hitting the fan Gavin got weary about her going out on her own. Mac ran on a different schedule, and Lu stayed with the kids. There wasn't anyone else she trusted enough to take over the supply drops for her, nevermind keep their mouths shut about who the supplies were for.

The radio crackles to life. There's static – not like there's any stations broadcasting anymore. Haley fiddles with the buttons and shoves a CD into the slot. "You need to talk to Gavin," Haley blurts out suddenly – turning in her seat.

Beth lets out a tired groan. Not this again. Not now. Since the satellite outpost Haley's favourite thing, in the entire damn world, has been talking about a rebellion. From all those books and movies she spends her time with. It's a great idea in theory but in practice? Besides, she's just a kid. She hasn't killed yet, not a person. What would she do if Negan came for them? He wouldn't just sit idly by while his people revolted and tried to burn down his empire. "You just sent all those kids away to be safe. What happens when they grow up, what if we're still fighting? All you did was delay the inevitable."

"Haley-" Beth says warningly

"Don't _Haley_ me. You're not my mom. You know I'm right. You said it, you said this isn't gonna stop until one side wipes out the other." It feels like Haley's making up for lost time. Beth thanks whatever higher power is out there that the girl isn't signing all of this, otherwise she wouldn't have snowballs chance of keeping up. "Why can't we just surrender? Maybe it will be okay if they know we don't want to fight."

Her fingers are gripping the steering wheel, hard. "We'd be lucky if they didn't kill us on sight. Hell it might be good if they did – because if they didn't Negan would." A surrender. Jesus Christ, it's almost laughable how crazy that is. "We're not talking about this again."

"But-" Haley's pouting now, arms crossed over her chest and everything.

Beth doesn't take her eyes off of the road. "No."

The car goes quiet quickly after that. Pretty soon the only noise was the music coming through the speakers and the wind passing over them on the outside.

She almost feels bad. Guilty even. It's a nice thought, an even nicer dream. There's never been much concern about what would happen if they went to war. She'd do what Gavin needed, what their people needed – what she was told to and if she died so be it. What did she have to live for? She'd already cheated death once, a second time was too much to ask for. There were so many people who had more, who wanted to live. Beth didn't blink much at the prospect of fighting for Negan, but the idea of people like Haley and Mac fighting – maybe even dying. That's what got to her. Every time.

She'd long since grown used to the silence but this sort she hated. The tense type, when it was glaringly obvious that the other person was unhappy. "This is new." She ducks her chin down, glancing towards the radio.

"I made it for you." Haley replies, refusing to look at her.

It's one in a collection. This was what she did with her free time, when she wasn't drawing. Beth's got at least four CD's to her name. "What is this?" It's a cheap tactic she's employing, picking up on the music like that. Outside of her art, music was something Haley held dear.

There's about a second of quiet. Beth assumes Haley's trying to decide whether or not she actually wants to answer. "It's by Kansas. It's old, like from the 70's." That doesn't really clear it up but Beth nods like she's just solved all of life's greatest mysteries.

 _Carry on my wayward son_  
 _For there'll be peace when you are done_  
 _Lay your weary head to rest_  
 _Don't you cry no more_

It's not bad. Haley's got decent taste, Haley's the only reason she really listens to music anyways. "It's pretty good." and from the corner of her eyes Beth can swear she sees the teenagers mouth turn up at the corners like she's fighting a smile. Okay, that's good. She's not plotting her death just yet. "If we see him, he's going to give you crap for givin' me a hard time." Haley instantly straightens up in her seat. She has her attention now.

Haley grimaces, an over-exaggerated gesture. "He wont. Siddiq likes me." Now it's Beth's turn to fight back the smirk. The kid isn't wrong about that one. "Do you think he'll be there?" Haley asks hesitantly.

It doesn't really feel like the right time to reiterate that Siddiq could be dead, which was entirely likely but not when she's trying to talk her way back into Haley's good graces. "He's smart, he probably rationed his supplies. He was holed up in an old gas station last time I saw him. As long as he's got shelter..." A person needs a whole lot more than shelter to survive, but for the sake of avoiding another argument. They can just leave it at that.

She lets herself try her hand at the whole optimism thing. The Kingdom will need a doctor, the kids would need someone to watch over them, and if Siddiq was still out there somewhere – he was going to need a home. The Kingdom would be perfect, absolutely perfect.

 _Carry on, you will always remember_  
 _Carry on, nothing equals the splendor_  
 _Now your life's no longer empty_  
 _Surely heaven waits for you_

Maybe just this once, she can hope for something too.

* * *

 **A/N:** The song that open's Beth's CD mix is none other than Carry On Wayward Son by Kansas.

Let's dive right into it, shall we? First I've gotta say yes. THAT Siddiq. I was nervous and very excited at the same time for this. As soon as they introduced him on the TV show I was smitten and I knew that I wanted to use him in some capacity. Well, here is it.

I struggled a little bit this chapter with how I handled Carol. Which is how I wound up giving Ezekiel a nice little speech there to try and cheer her up. I know it may also seem like Carol got Beth back to the Kingdom incredibly easily, and it's true she did. Beth is smart enough to realize she's not in the best shape to go back to the outpost on foot, and working closely with Gavin she knows of the run schedule. Which means she knows that she can catch a ride.

And I can now confirm there were at least 3 survivors of the Hilltop group. Mac, a baby, and Bear.

I would like to thank (and ya'll should too if you enjoyed the bit of Beth and Jerry) natural_blue_26 for the idea of having Beth meet Shiva.

I would also like to point out that the events portrayed in the comic Carol finds are 100% canon in this story. Think of it as Savior!Beth's origin story. Some of which I will likely go more in depth with at a later time. If you have any questions about them absolutely feel free to ask! Now that they're out there, I don't mind talking about them one bit.

Thank you all for reading and please let me know what you think if you get the chance! I absolutely love seeing your reviews 3

Until next time!


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note** : My humble offering.

A quick thing! some people have asked about the timeline for this story. I made a post about it here: post/173473110636/regarding-the-timeline-wdwg

The TL;DR of that though is that this story is set at the tail end of season 7, early season 8. Rick and Co. Have not attacked the Saviors yet.

No novel-length author's note this time so ya'll can get right to it.

I love you all and thank you for reading!

PS. Still not beta'd. I know, but please still love me anyways.

* * *

The woman had appeared out of nowhere, to hear Ezekiel's men tell it. They had found her nearby the meeting spot, where Ezekiel and Gavin conducted their business. A sole wanderer requesting an audience at the Kingdom. Claiming that it was of the utmost importance. As it had turned out, it was. Carol was skeptical at first. She had gone to the meet, she had Ezekiel pull Gavin to the side, she had told him that he had one of their people. The blonde girl with the scars, Beth. Had she expected anything of it? No. There was recognition in his face but Gavin seemed uninterested in further discussing the matter. He was far more concerned with his people lingering nearby. Almost as if he were afraid to speak where they might hear.

Carol recognizes her. The face, the hair. She had been in the comic but never named, unless she had missed the detail. She seemed closely connected to Beth. "Who are you?"

"Luann." Is all that she says as she thrusts her hands out and offers her a folder. "It came to the outpost with her. Just saw it for the first time myself." Carol tries to hide the shake in her hands as she reaches for the folder. "You think she's yours?"

No, she doesn't think that's their Beth. She knows it's her. "Who wrote this?"

Luann shrugs, leaning back against the truck. "She came with a doctor. There's a chart in there, a whole notebook worth of information about her. Care instructions..."

"Did he say anything else?" Carol asks.

"Who, Gavin? No. Just to hand this over."

Carol flips open the cover. The woman may be armed, but she's alone, and she hadn't flashed her weapons. A stark contrast to her meeting with Beth. If there is a threat it isn't immediate. "Whoever you think she is. That girl's gone," The woman says with a shake of her head, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jackets.

"Why do you say that?" Carol doesn't even look up from the chart.

She lets out a little derisive laugh. "I don't need notes to tell me that she's broken. Some days I'm amazed she even comes back at all – only did it because of the kids I'd figure. Now that most of them are gone...her job's done."

So she was a caregiver for them, too. Carol wanted to ask if she had ever mentioned a little blonde baby, or the name Judith. Beth had adored that little girl. "You think she's broken?" Carol presses, finally looking up from the folder.

Another snort. It's funny, everything about the woman reminds her of Beth. "You did meet her, didn't you? She's not all there. Hasn't been since day one. She lost more than her memories when she was shot." Yes, it had been glaringly obvious that the Beth she had seen was not their Beth. She had met something darker, a shadow of her former self. "Have you ever seen someone pull the trigger on another human without warning – without so much as a hint of remorse?"

Carol's lips thin. The woman is expecting a no. She had seen the comic. Hearing about something is vastly different than reading about it. "She's killed?"

"I was there when it happened. No one got a chance to do anything. On second she was helping us load up one of the trucks and the next she's standing over my husband's body. She looked right at me afterwards. There was nothing in her eyes. Not a goddamn thing."

Carol's listening with rapt attention. The man Beth had executed had been her husband? Luann doesn't sound angry, or upset. She sounds tired. She doesn't need to ask why Beth had killed him. Even without the comic and the knowledge scribbled onto the pages she would see it a mile away – identify with it immediately. Luann was a survivor, just like she was.

The woman, Luann, had been right. There is a chart, there is a lined book filled to the brim with notes. Carol takes it back to the Kingdom where she shuts herself away in Ezekiel's quarters. He's mingling, showing the new children around, placing those old enough to work with their new job assignments.

Beth had woken up with no memory of who she was, or where she was. The confrontation had been wiped from her mind completely along with everything else.

Carol goes through the chart. She'd seen enough of them in her time, even the doctor-speak she can more or less decipher. Her injuries, both from her initial time the Hospital after she had been taken as well as those sustained at various points (including the gunshot) are all there in graphic detail.

The notebook however, lack the same formality that is scribbled onto the charts.

It read almost like a journal. From the time Beth was brought back to Grady up until she was transferred to another outpost.

Edwards had written down everything in detail. What had happened before she had been shot, what he knew about the confrontation – that her group had come to get the both of them. Writing it down so that he could work with her as she healed, in hopes she might regain some of her memories.

He theorized that if someone put the time and effort into it, it wasn't outside of the realm of possibility that she might be able to remember some things. There was no real way of telling whether or not the memory loss would be permanent, or if in time things would come back. He had intended to work with her, but on the road there hadn't been much of an opportunity to. Beth had none of it, either. Controlling her was difficult. More than once she ran off or threatened one of the officers. Which resulted in her spending most of her times in cuffs at his side. Whenever he attempted to speak with her she got agitated.

The Sanctuary had provided enough stability, but she wasn't kept there long. It had been a tough decision to do it, to talk Negan out of trying anything with Beth. He had sent the folder along to the outpost in hopes that someone would step up. He also stated that Beth was completely unaware of the folders existence, confronting her with all of the information at once would be a poor idea, it could only further fracture her conscious.

It's all there.

Some of the details are missing. He doesn't have a name for every member of the group who had been in the hallway, but he did describe them. All of them. Beth had never known. No one had told her that they had come from her, no one had told her that she hadn't always been alone. That she was loved, that she was surrounded by family. All this time someone had held onto this knowledge but never shared it.

"Am I interrupting?" Ezekiel's calm voice cuts through the noise in her head. The guilt and anger are temporarily silenced by his appearance.

"She could have remembered, if someone had stopped – if they had cared enough. She could have remembered." Carol glances up from the pages.

"It seems someone had cared if they had taken the time to put together such an extensive file on her – and carry it with them all this time. The intention was there," Ezekiel offers. Obviously it was there, Edwards had stated himself that he had intended to help Beth with her rehabilitation once her physical injuries had healed. Why had no one else? If Gavin had the file why hadn't he shared it? Given it to someone else, gotten them to work with her.

Ezekiel takes the folder from her hands yet again, skimming through the pages. "The doctor does mention that regaining her memories could potentially be harmful to her and have a negative impact on her behaviour. Is it possible they disregarded this to ensure that she would be more manageable?"

Carol hadn't considered that. It was well documented that Beth was a handful, ornery as the day was long. She dealt with orders and authority poorly, a time or two the word 'volatile' has been used. A potential danger to herself and those around her. "She is able bodied, from what I understand she is proficient in hand to hand combat. According to the children she spends most of her time training, when she isn't out scavenging. She would be considerably less useful if they had to keep her in restraints, a waste of resources." He's right. Of course he is. If on her best day, Beth poses a threat to others and herself, why would any one want to tip the scales when the results could potentially be disastrous?

"What do I do, Ezekiel?" Carol asks suddenly, pushing herself off of the edge of the bed. "With the file, with all of this."

He is in a unique position. One of the people she can trust beyond a shadow of a doubt who has no skin in the game. He had never known Beth before, if she had never been brought through the Kingdom's gates he likely never would have heard her name uttered so long as any who knew her had lived.

He closes the folder and sets it down on the bed. He's mulling it over. She knows that face he wont speak again until he has an answer that he's confident in, that he's sure of.

"You could burn the file," Carol flinches at the suggestion. "It could stay between us, the others need not know of her reappearance." And let the weight of the knowledge weigh on her shoulders. Ezekiel doesn't say it, but, it is implied. Weigh her down it would. "It may not be the easiest one. It may hurt even more than the reality that they have already accepted, but it would be a truth that you all could carry."

"When she died," She catches herself, feeling that lump form in her throat. "It changed us." Changed isn't an adequate word. It destroyed them. Some more than others but they all felt the blow. Christ, Maggie. Daryl.

In a way, he had never stopped carrying her. All this time, as far as they had come he may as well have still held her lifeless body against his chest. The memories he had clung to him, shrouded him. He let them. As if he were incapable of anything else. He had never moved on, never let go. Others had been able to. No doubt they still felt the sting, the absence. Their ray of sunshine taken away as Beth had been but Daryl. Jesus Christ, Daryl. He had never been the same.

Could she do that to them? Break them all over again? They had a right to know. It feels like they do. But what if Luann was right, and as far as she had seen she was. What would happen then? God, why couldn't it have happened months ago? Before Negan, before the storm clouds had begun to brew on the horizon. Why did it have to be now?

Ezekiel presses his hand to her shoulder again the way he seems to do so often these days. Carol accepts it, drawing in every ounce of comfort and strength that he offers her. "Nothing needs to be decided right now. This may be a decision that is best slept on." It's a nice idea. If the previous nights since Beth had crashed back into her life were any indication – sleep would be difficult to come by. At least she could put the time to good use. The decision ahead of her, one that only she could make, was no small thing.

For a kid who hasn't spent a whole lot of time outside the walls, she slips into the roll like an old pro. It's confidence, Beth is sure about that. Haley's a good shot – she puts some of the adults to shame. Soon she wouldn't be surprised if someone handed her a sniper rifle and gave her guard duty. At least out here, she's less likely to argue. She'll listen because she knows this is life and death.

They're heading towards the old gas station. The jeep parked a short ways away under the cover of trees, off the main road. It's the last spot she'd seen him, one of the few buildings within the area she'd designated as a 'safe' zone. Just far enough to be away from the other communities and out of a direct line of fire, but close enough that she could make the supply drops. But it's been almost a month. She hasn't gotten anywhere near this place. He's either dug in or he's left. Assuming he's even still alive.

Sadie's on leash for this one rare occasion. The other end is fastened around Haley's waist. Her idea, she'd used her points to have someone modify a leash for her. If Sadie saw or heard anything, she'd start moving and Haley would feel it. The best sort of alert system that they could have in place given the circumstances.

None of the cars look like they've been touched. Place looks just as deserted as it always did. The front's still locked up tight, but there's a door that she'd personally broken in at the back. Even installed a makeshift lock for the back if he decided to hole up there.

They check inside first once the immediate perimeter is cleared. There's signs that someone had been there at some point. She recognizes some of the garbage, stuff she'd brought him. Doesn't look like there's much new. A sinking feeling forms in the pit of her stomach. She had hoped she would be able to keep him supplied long enough, at least until he learned to manage on his own. His survival skills were sub-par at best. Beth had meant to show him things, teach him when she got the time. She'd never counted on a war, never counted on their people getting slaughtered. That had thrown a wrench into her plans. Needing to be more cautious, losing a certain bulk of her in-and-out privileges with Gavin out of fear.

Haley's staring expectantly. Damn girl is always staring, it's unnerving. Beth knows what she's in for. A rapid fire telling off about what an idiot she'd been for letting him go. "Okay. You and Sadie are staying here. He could be out lookin' for supplies while he's still got sun- "God, she hopes he's out looking for supplies. "I'll throw a wider loop, if you see anyone hide but don't shoot."

"But-"

"I mean it. You only fire that gun if you have to. We're too close to Alexandria, if they've got patrols out the last thing we want to do is draw attention. You hide. Got it?"

Haley's eyes narrow like she's trying to challenge her. They stare each other down for about a minute before Haley's rolling her eyes. Good, it's a start. "Take care of my dog." She adds with a smirk as she turns away – just in time to miss the fact that Haley's got both middle fingers raised in her direction.

Haley can hold her own. Beth's not too worried about leaving her behind at the gas station. It would be easier for her to work without her. In a worst case scenario she can shoot, or, play the sympathy card. The girl would rather shoot her way out than play the disability card. No matter how many time's she's tried to tell her that you use whatever you have at your disposal. You do whatever you have to to survive.

There's a path from the gas station that leads right through the woods. A well travelled one at that. The leaves and dirt are all padded down, there's clear boot prints and snapped branches. Walkers would do that, but not to this extent. That was a good sign.

She doesn't remember how to tell if the footprints are fresh, but they're footprints. She'll follow them anyways.

She knows a little. Enough to keep herself alive. Mac said she would have made a good hunter if she had the ability to shoot. Took to tracking like a natural, animals, people. Far from a pro but good enough to earn a smidgen of praise.

Beth's barely out of view from the gas station when she finds the first walker. Normally she wouldn't think much of it. It's dead-dead- why should she care? Just there's some sort of cord, bright blue like the type they use for clotheslines at the outpost attached to this things ankle. Looks like some sort of snare.

So he'd been there.

This was his thing. Part of why she'd had to let him go, so that he could fulfill his calling. His parents had believed that to kill the walkers was to free their soul. Some religious bullshit that she'd scoffed at. After his father had died he'd gone off the deep end. He went from a walker or two on the odd run, to going out of his way to find the goddamn things. She'd saved his skin at least once – after he'd put hers in danger.

By in large the reason why if she found him dead, or didn't find him at all, it wouldn't be too shocking. If you played with fire enough eventually you'd wound up getting burnt.

The deeper she pushes into the forest the more signs she sees. Not just a travelled footpath but wooden barricades, edges whittled down to sharp points. Protecting, no camp in range. To make it more obvious, the barricades (Which really aren't more than pointed sticks that had been driven into the ground – at least he'd tried ) have something hanging from the branches above them. Bait, bits of old tin cans. Shit that makes noise.

The barricades are new. She can tell by the colour of the wood that some of them have been constructed recently, or at least had newer poles put into place. Aside from Alexandria, there isn't another settlement close. It's possible that these were here before, or had been erected during her month long absence.

It has to be him because there's no sign of a camp near any of the spiked set ups. Not a trace. Why go through the effort to put together something like that in multiple spots if there's nothing to guard?

It's batshit enough that it's gotta be him. Siddiq and his holy-freeing-of-the-souls quest.

His set ups are convenient at least. Beth pulls her knife from her belt, pressing one palm flat against the bark. If he's taken the time to set up something like this, he probably does rounds. Why bother otherwise? The tip of the blade digs into the bark as she works. It's rough, really rough. The tree not being a flat surface and the fact that she's using a knife to carve out the lines but it's close enough that he's gonna know.

He'll know that she was there and with that knowledge will come the unspoken promise of food and other necessities.

She takes the moment to admire her handiwork. It's as good as it's ever going to get. Between the tremor, the fact that she can't draw worth a damn. At least they sort of look like wings. It's infinitely better than nothing.

She's tagged two trees when she hears it. The snap of a branch that may as well have been a gun shot the seems to echo through the forest. It could be anything, she can't see anything thanks to the brush and the trees. Best case scenario, it's Siddiq. Worst case, it's a walker or two. Beth turns, pressing her back to the tree and using the trunk as cover.

One heartbeat, two.

Another snap.

"What did Paul say?" Shit. It's not a walker, definitely not Siddiq. She's got no clue who that is aside from most definitely a man. There's a crackle, static she thinks. It's getting closer. There's another voice – this one's coming out of a radio.

Beth can't quite make it out. She only picks up on a few words as the source draws closer. Words like small, scared, and blonde. This is a problem. Are they Saviors? She could whistle. They'd either respond in kind, or if they're from the settlements they'll attack and s he'll have given away her position.

The brush rustles and Beth manuevers around the tree. She catches a flash. It's a man, tall, red hair. No one she can put a name to. "Does Rick know we're out here?"

Rick.

Well, that answers that.

The plan forms immediately. Wait for him to get closer and go for the radio. This part she's good at. Sneaking around, all quiet like. Beth carefully slides the knife back into it's sheath and pushes up her sleeve. She's never liked blood much. The wires are better. At least on people. She's not supposed to kill, not unless she has to. Beth unwraps the wire from around her wrist. There's a grips on either end. Small but enough to hold onto. It'll be fast, quiet.

The man draws clearer. The voice on the other end of the radio is talking about how no, Rick doesn't know. Carl didn't want to tell him. If she grabs the radio first that gives the stranger too much time to respond. If they have some sort of code for that thing worked out, a couple clicks of the talk button might be enough to screw her over.

No, she'll go for the throat.

He's oblivious when she pushes herself away from the tree and stalks towards him. He's too busy admiring either Siddiq's make shift trap or the wings she'd carved. Beth's on him fast. The toe of her boot collides with his knees, causing him to stagger and before he can so much as think to lift the rifle that he's holding onto the wire's at his throat.

It works. Both the rifle and the radio drop. He's too preoccupied with trying to pull the wire away from his throat, which only causes her to pull harder.

It's not as easy. It never is. Everyone in the whole goddamn universe is bigger than her. He struggles like they always do. It's hard staying upright. She can't go down, if she does he's got to be on the bottom otherwise she'll get crushed underneath him. "We're at the gas station."

Gas station? Beth's heart drops down to her feet. The we implies multiple people and Haley's there, alone. "We'll meet you on the road in five. Let me know if you find him." The disembodied voice calls out. This seems to spur the man on because he lurches backwards, and then forward again. One hand is now blinding groping at her, trying to grab anything he can. Beth throws her weight against his back. It's enough for him to lose his balance, He falls forward and she does too.

"Just give up." Beth grits out. "It's easier that way." Easier for her, at least. Which at the end of the day is really all that matters.

She doesn't know how she did it. She never does. They're always bigger and stronger, some are better at fighting. This one wasn't. When he goes limp underneath her she lets the wire drop and she puts a hand to his throat, feeling for a pulse underneath her fingertips. As soon as they slip she has to let go.

There's no time to waste. She grabs the radio and immediately shuts it off. God forbid they hear her coming, or he comes to and warns his people that she's on her way. Beth does however leave the gun. She's got no use for that anyways. This time she takes off through the forest, quiet be damned.

There's no sounds of a fight. No barking, no gunshots. She should be able to hear something. Her brain may not work right anymore, but her goddamn ears still do. Which meant that they must not have found Haley yet. Hopefully, the girl had enough sense to know to hide.

There should be something. Swearing, barking, growling, gunshots. Something. The radio that the man had wasn't one of those fancy once, it wasn't made for long distances. She knew the area well enough to know that if they were within range and closing in on a gas station – there was only one place they would end up.

There needs to be something. Even if not the sounds of a fight, any sign of life. Haley could have listened to her and stayed hidden. For once in her life she could have taken her advice. It's a possibility. Yet anxiety creeps up her insides until it has an icy grip on her heart.

Once the building is in sight Beth forces herself to slow down. She can't give herself away. Any second now there will be a sign. The voices on the radio, or Sadie. There will be something because there has to be.

Beth pulls her gun out of her holster, switching the safety off. Any second. Talking, snarling. Something.

She waits. Waits for what feels like an eternity. There's nothing. Not a goddamn thing. Beth slips inside the gas station, the door left ajar. No Haley, no Sadie, no nothing.

No, no, no.

The anxiety quickly turns into a full blown panic. Cover be damned, they can fucking shoot her if they want. She can't leave without Haley. Beth rounds the building as quickly as her boots will take her. Somewhere in the back of her mind a voice is telling her to stop. There's no point in rushing the inevitable. If there was anything there to find, anyone, she would have seen them. The gas station is empty. There's nothing there. No bodies scattered among the abandoned cars. Not a trace.

Beth stops at the pumps, using the rusted out metal as a brace to keep herself upright. The panic threatens to overtake her. Her lungs ache in her chest, her vision is blurring. Her trembling fingers curl into the metal and the pain ripples up through her arm.

Gone.

It's all that she can think.

Haley's gone.

She's gone. It's her fault. She shouldn't have left her alone. What the hell had she been thinking? This close to another community – not one of the friendlier ones. There's no bullet casings or signs of a struggle. No walkers, downed or otherwise. She even whistles for all the good it does.

There's no time to lose her cool now. Bad things happen when she does that, when she flies off the handle. No she needs to stop and think. Not about how she's lost Haley, not about the fact that Sadie is gone. She needs to work the problem, find a solution. She can't return without Haley.

It's not so much of a plan as it is an urge the way she storms through the brush. If he'd woken up, he probably couldn't have gotten far.

He's not where she left him. He's up, moving. She puts a quick stop to that. One shot and that winds up embedded in a nearby tree (She had meant to shoot over his head, for all that good that had done) but it does stops him in his tracks. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Beth says flatly as he turns, lifting the rifle at his side. "That was a warning shot."

Odds are she wont actually be able to hit him at this distance, her arm and grip are too unreliable. But he doesn't need to know that.

"My name's -"

Beth rolls her eyes, moving closer until she has the muzzle of the gun pressed right up against his chest. Why the hell would she care what his name is? She already knows who he is. "You're from Alexandria." A fact, not a question. She'd heard them say Rick. This close meant that they had to be. "How many of you are out here?"

He looks confused. Frightened and confused. Eyes darting from the gun and back up to her face. He's abandoned his hold on his rifle entirely now – holding his hands up at his sides. "Out here? There isn't...It's just me, me and my husband. There was a boy with him. Just the three of us." Beth presses the muzzle into his chest more firmly.

"They took something of mine." Beth spits out. That has to be it, there's no other logical explanation for it.

The man gapes at that. As if it's the most shocking thing he's ever heard in his life. "Aaron wouldn't...this is a mistake!"

Yeah, only she knows for a fact it isn't. Beth reaches for his belt, yanking the radio off of it and jamming it into her coat pocket. "Move." Only he doesn't follow her demands. Not at first.

Another jab in the chest sends a jolt through him. This time, he moves. She can't lose her cool now, as badly as she wants to. They had taken something of hers, now she has something of theirs.

She just needs to figure out what the hell she's going to do with him.

* * *

 **A/N:** So many things are happening! I ran through multiple scenarios for this chapter. Carol meeting Luann? That was almost different, Beth encountering an Alexandrian in the woods? Almost didn't happen. I had various ideas that all would have impacted the story in different ways.

This route makes me a little nervous, but that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Yes, I do realize that Eric refers to Aaron as his husband. That was initially a mistype that my shipper subconscious added I guess, but why change it? So as far as we all are concerned, they married. I imagine sometime after Negan started wrecking things one of them decided that they have a preacher - why not? Who cares what anyone else thinks? If they're going to die - they're gonna died married. That's that. It's incredibly romantic I know.

I did some back and forth on how easily Beth was able to take down Eric. Hopefully you guys don't hate it too much. In my mind, I'm using the defense that she's well practiced with her method and she had the element of surprise on her side.

And as for how Carol focuses on Daryl vs. Maggie. Time heals if you let it. The others I think were able to make peace and move on (and even at times be happy) but Daryl? Daryl hasn't been the same since Grady and whether you ship it or not I think that's something we can all agree on. I'm not saying Beth is the ONLY reason for why Daryl is the way he is by the time season 8 comes around. It played a sizable part though.

As for what happened to Haley, can I be mean and invite you to look back and previous chapters to get some hints? If you're into that sort of thing!

Finally for a little shameless self promotion. If you ever have any questions, or what to screech at me for how sad I make everything, or just whatever, you can find me on tumblr _leather-n-laces_ . Feel free to message me anytime, about anything. I have anon enabled too if you'd rather not share your blog handle. I rant about writing and occasionally torture my followers with random excerpts from one shots or upcoming chapters in the dead of the night. It's a fun time to be had by all, I tell you. I also track _#WDWG_ and _# Way Down We Go fic_ on tumblr.

and I lied. That wasn't finally but this is.

Thank you again for taking the time to read this! If you would be so kind, shoot me a review and let me know what you think about this chapter, where things are going, heck shake your internet fist at me for making things so sad all the time. I read & respond to all of them and at the end of the day they are all greatly appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note** : No long winded intro note this time guys. I am sorry about the wait, I had intended to update far sooner but real life has had other plans for.

If I could make a song recommendation for this chapter: Check out Battleme's cover of Hey hey, My my. I listened to this song quite a few times while writing this, particularly while writing a specific part. Which I will mark with a * for you guys in case you're curious.

As always, this is not Beta'd so any mistakes are my own.

I hope you enjoy it!

* * *

They're gone. They're just gone.

The lack of a struggle or bloodshed aren't as comforting as they might be to some. She had given Haley explicit orders. Outside the walls, Haley always listens. She wouldn't just wander off, her communication with Sadie is still a work in progress and she has limited ammunition. She isn't equipt to be out there on her own.

The walk back to the car is long as it is torturous. Every step of the way the urge to turn around and drag the man back through the forest nudges at her a little bit harder. It feels like she's abandoning Haley. She knows where Alexandria is. She's been there. They could get there on foot and easily before nightfall. That wouldn't be smart, one person against an entire community? No one to have her back if her presence is ill received. There doesn't seem like there's much point in piecing together a backstory. Who knows if Haley's said anything; if they know that she wasn't alone or where she had come from.

She can't start shit. They're already living in fear of an imminent attack. Everyone seems to think that it's only a matter of time before what happened at the satellite outpost happens to them, too. Gavin would have her head if she did anything stupid. Given that her best idea involves pressing the muzzle to the man's head and giving the Alexandrian's to the count of ten to produce Haley, it's safe to assume Gavin wouldn't be thrilled.

She can't go in guns a blazin' like she so badly wants to. She needs to stop and think.

Thinking's hard. Squashing down the panic is hard, ignoring all of the what-if scenarios. She had been at the satellite outpost, she had heard stories about all the people they had killed. Haley's just a girl but who was to say that mattered anymore? What if all they needed to know was a Savior?

It isn't just the fate of Haley and Sadie that are distracting, or the way her heart is beating a million miles a minute in her chest. Beth remains hyper vigilant, gun resting on her leg and a finger ready to drop to the trigger if he so much as looks at her wrong.

"What's your name?" The man keeps trying to talk to her. Open up a dialogue, that's what Gavin would call it. Whatever the fuck he's trying to do in the passengers seat. It's a tactic. She had seen it before. Sucking up to the person who has their hand on the loaded gun. It wont work with her. It's never worked with her. She wont suddenly slam on the brakes and shove him out the side of the car like he's got to be hoping for. Beth says nothing. "My name's Eric. Eric Raleigh."

He says it like she actually cares.

Beth just keeps her eyes forward. Attention divided between the man, the road, and the gun on her lap. She can't go back to the outpost and she can't go to Alexandria. She grimaces at the realization of how disgustingly limited her options are.

"Are you married?." Beth's eyes narrow as she glances over to him. He leans further back into the space between the car door and the seat. Is she married? What the hell type of question is that? "We got word from another settlement-" She already knows where that is going to go. "A man showed up, he said his wife was missing." It's amazing that he can't seem to pick up on how disinterested she is, and there's no possible way he does because Eric soldiers on. "He got separated from his wife by a herd, from the sounds of it. He doesn't know what happened to the rest of the group but he made it out. He has a baby with him," Beth's gaze shoots up to catch her reflection in the glass. Why the hell is he telling her any of this?

"A dog too," Eric's brow furrows. "His name is Mac, I think. He's looking for someone who sounds a lot like you."

The car comes to a screeching halt as she slams her foot down on the break. "What did you say?"

Now somehow Eric looks confused, like he's completely thrown by the fact that he now has her full attention. "Did you say his name was Mac?" It's too much to hope for, it's stupid. She had seen the site with her own two eyes. She knows better than to hope for anything because the world is always going to break your heart. There are no exceptions.

But he mentioned a baby and a dog. What were the odds? Especially in this world?

 **xxx**

That changes things. Eric hasn't seen him with his own two eyes but he describes Mac, describes Bear, even the baby. It presents a whole new problem on it's own because they're at Hilltop. Safe for now, Eric tries to assure her that they are all safe. She could just roll right up to the gates and proclaim that she, wife of Mac, has returned.

As much as the words would cause her physical pain to say out loud. She'll play whatever role she has to. The Hilltop is the Widow's domain. There's no way that Gregory has any say there, not anymore. Not from everything that she's heard. She wants to square off with the Widow as much as she does Rick. They both seem so equally unhinged. Broken past the point of reasoning.

Fact of the matter is that Mac cannot stay at the Hilltop. All they need is one impromptu visit from Simon and it all goes to hell. He'll find out about what they've done, sneaking the people and children out, or he'll assume that the Hilltop has taken hostages. "Where are we?"

They'd been driving for a little while. Not long, under an hour. They aren't going far, and she has a plan now. It's not the best ever but it's something. She pulls the car to a halt off the side of the road, under the cover of the trees. They aren't far now. A ten minute walk if that. Eric looks more than a little bit terrified as she motions for him to open up the car door. He doesn't recognize the area or he's genuinely concerned for his safety. Neither are high up on the list of things that she's worried about. It's better if he's scared, if he thinks that she might actually pull the trigger. It means that he should play along with her.

"Don't say a word. Got it?" Beth growls as the gates come into view. "Talk and I shoot." The hurried nod she receives in response means that at the very least, he can understand simple instructions.

The toe of her boot clashes against the metal. "I need to see Ezekiel."

 **xxx**

They aren't happy to see her. They are not happy at all. That's fine, she doesn't need to be liked she just needs to be let in. Needs that audience that she's demanding. Beth stows the gun and her threats had clearly made some impact because Eric doesn't looks even slightly more at ease. It's easier than she expects it to be. Do they want to be leading her through the Kingdom? No. Are they doing it regardless? Yes.

It's a part of the community she had only seen once in passing. A large auditorium with a throne on the stage. This time the throne isn't empty. Ezekiel is perched on top of it. Shiva standing beside him in all of her glory. Jerry is to his left, holding what looks like some sort of movie prop. "Lady Bird," His voice rumbles over the sound of Shiva's own growl. "You've returned."

Not willingly. "Who is your companion?"

"Eric Raleigh." He doesn't miss so much as a beat. Beth head swings round to glare at him so quickly that pain flares up underneath her skin. He's not a companion. She has to bite her tongue to keep from saying it out loud. They aren't friends. If anything, he's a means to an end.

"I need safe passage."

"You do not make demands of -" Jerry immediately launches in to some sort of speil. Which, she does not have the time or patience for.

I need safe passage to the other communities. The Hilltop and Alexandria."

The smile that had initially graced his features as they had been led into the auditorium vanishes. It's about the reaction that she had been expecting, if she is being honest with herself. "Why the Hilltop?"

"There were survivors from the other group." and they can't stay there. The baby maybe, but Mac? He needs to get out, the sooner the better.

Ezekiel leans back in on the throne, reaching for Shiva's head. "And Alexandria?" To her ears, it actually sounds as if he's considering her demand.

"They found something of mine, and I found something of theirs." Beth can practically feel Eric cringing beside her. It is a far nicer, more docile explication for what had happened. "I just want to make things right."

She hopes that's convincing enough. She's trying, it's hard. It's incredibly hard to sound anything other than angry and bitter. Ezekiel seems smart. He has to be, to keep a handle on an operation this big. He'll see right through it, he'll understand that she didn't find Eric so much as took him. Kidnapped, essentially if they 're going to get picky about wording.

She only did what his people had done to Haley.

Ezekiel's eyeing Eric closely. Like he's silently willing the man to speak, or to profess to some horrible mistreatment. "If you do this for me, I'll do something for you." The words virtually echo in the room.

"What do you offer the Kingdom in return?"

She had no idea whether or not that would work. If he would consider it without her sweetening the pot. Time is off the essence and she's done enough standing around. "I can get you a doctor. I know you're going to need one." In theory, she could get them a doctor. If she finds Siddiq, it's entirely possible. That had been the plan from the start. Find Siddiq and send him to the Kingdom where he can be safe and most importantly – useful.

"Jerry, why don't you take Miss Bird and Sir Eric to see the children? I'm sure they will be more overjoyed to see her again."

"But what about-" Ezekiel holds his hand up and the words die on her lips. Her gaze turned smoldering.

"Go, see the children. We will speak later."

 **xxx**

"She's demanding safe passage to the other communities."

She hadn't expected to see her again. Carol had thought, been so sure that once Beth walked back through those gates it would be the last time that she ever saw her face again. They were on two different sides of a war, for all intensive purposes they were enemies. To hear that she has returned, not only returned but was requesting aid is nearly enough to make her head spin.

"The Hilltop first, she knows about the survivors. Then to Alexandria."

"To negotiate with Rick. She has one of his people, an Eric Raleigh." Ezekiel gives her a firm nod.

It's too soon. She's not ready. They aren't ready. "You should ride ahead," Carol's eyes widen at the suggestion. "The guard will escort Beth and your friend. This way you can warn Maggie. If you go ahead you have more control over the outcome. It's better this way – what would become of her if she showed up at the gates alone?" How he can sound so confident still amazes her, even after all this time. His plan isn't far off from her own. Warn them, yes. This way they have some control over how it plays out, what happens.

 **xxx**

Ezekiel had sent two guards with them along with the assurance that she would not be harmed at either community while his people stood watch over her. They drive to the Hilltop, loading her and Eric up in the back of a van. Once she can see the walls a feeling of dis-ease unfurls in the pit of her stomach.

Eric had tried to assure her that Mac was safe, but she had heard the stories. Everyone had this point, about the Widow and Rick. They may be people – just like she had tried to convince the children. Flesh and blood people just like she is. Only they've done a hell of a lot more than she has, than she hopefully ever will.

At the Kingdom, she's not sure if anyone had ever made an official announcement. Gathered every resident up in the auditorium and mentioned that they had Saviors in their midst. It sure as hell felt like they knew. It's a similar feeling when the van rolls through the gates and she pulls back the side door. Anyone working nearby seems to stop what they're doing just to stare. The only one who doesn't look completely off put by their arrival is the man who has appeared out of nowhere. Long flowing hair, piercing sort of eyes. "We found the girl." One of the guards announce. The man doesn't seem to care. He's not even looking at her. He's looking at Eric. The fact that she can't read his face immediately puts her on edge. She is still armed. She's got her knives, and a gun tucked at her back. Purposely hidden upon entering the Kingdom – no way were they disarming her again.

From the look on Eric's face, she half expects him to break down right there and launch into the harrowing tale that has been his day. Instead, he is silent. "Mac will be happy to see you." He finally speaks. "He's over here."

 **xxx**

 ***** The file lays open on the desk. The pages all in disarray. Maggie had shoved them away. She can't look at them anymore. Carol understands that feeling. She's spent entirely too much time looking at them herself. Over and over, cover to cover. It still just barely feels real, even to her. Even when confronted with the living, breathing truth of it.

They had already made their peace with the lie. They had moved on – carried on because they had to. Now that certainty had been shattered. Faced with an entirely new reality.

In this world everyone is prepared for death. No one was prepared for something like this. A resurrection.

"I need to see her."

"Maggie-" Carol's voice is tired, warning.

"I need to know."

You already do. Carol thinks it but doesn't dare say it. She can't be upset by the doubt. Maggie's need for something solid, irrefutable proof. Who wouldn't have demanded the same if all they had been given were a stack of papers and claims of a miracle? "I know. I understand, but I need you to listen to me. It's not safe – she isn't safe. Beth isn't the same, it's too dangerous for you. For both of you." Carol almost feels sick playing that card. The pregnancy card. It's not out of malice that she does it, it isn't an attempt to manipulate. Only to get Maggie to see reason. She had seen first hand how Beth had reacted to her. Angry and hostile. What would she do if Maggie rushed out to greet her. Could Maggie compose herself? Could she hold it all in?

It doesn't even seem fair to ask.

Carol had spent the entire ride between the two colonies going over the conversation in her mind. How exactly she was supposed to tell Maggie that she couldn't see Beth. Not right now. She can only see it ending one way. In tears and bloodshed. Beth had reacted so poorly at the idea of being a familiar face, what would it be like if Maggie called her baby sister and ran to embrace her?

There's too much at stake.

With a swing of the door and a call Enid announces that the others have arrived. Carol takes a deep breathe and moves towards the balcony. The balcony doors are shut, and they'll stay that way. Maggie can see clearly enough over the community through the doors.

Beside her Maggie steels herself. She can feel it. She's standing up taller, her jaw is set, arms crossed tight over her chest. She's trying to prepare herself. Carol wants to say it wont help. There's no way to prepare for this.

She's wearing the exact same thing she had the first time she had seen her from the looks of it. Dark jacket, dark cap, dark pants, dark everything. What strands of her hair that are free of her collar and hat seem to shine impossibly bright in the sun. "It's not her." Maggie says quietly, sounding confused. Her brows are knit and her expression is dancing on the line between confused and angered.

She understands. She understands it perfectly. Carol understands how even after reading the file, seeing Beth emerge from the van, there's still that doubt. That voice that's bound to be in the back of Maggie's head, just like it had been in hers that's saying it isn't Beth.

Jesus is out in the yard now, talking to Beth and Eric. Beth doesn't look terribly interested in him. Instead she's looking around, scoping the place out. It's the look of someone planning their exit strategy, surveying all available options. Not something Beth from before would have done, but now?

If it isn't Beth, then there's nothing to get worked up about. If it isn't Beth, there's no need to feel guilty, angry, or torn up. If it isn't Beth the world keeps turning.

If it is Beth, it means that they had left her alone. If it is Beth, they let her become this. A Savior. If it is Beth – this means that they failed her.

A man rounds the trailers and flies towards the blonde. He collides with her, wrapping her up tight in his arms. Mac, she assumes. The survivor. Beth doesn't move at first. She readjusts, having almost been knocked off her feet but her arms don't come up automatically. The man who had claimed to be her husband. When Beth finally does embrace him, even from their vantage point it looks forced. Like it's the absolute last thing that she wants to be doing – but she does it anyways.

"It's not her."

But it is. Maggie will see, just like she had.

 **xxx**

"Paul – this is my Beth." Mac's arm slips down to her waist, pulling her tight up against his side. Beth nearly pushes him away but then the voice in the back of her mind reminds her – it's an act. Mac had told them that she was his wife. What sort of wife would she be if she kneed him in the crotch? Because he knows, he knows that nobody gets to touch her.

She does her job, she plays her role. Forced as the smile is, it's still a smile. "Come on, there's someone else who will want to see you." He finally lets go of her, giving her an expectant nod. They don't go far. The someone else that he's referring to is a baby. Beth recognizes her instantly. Well, the hair she recognizes. A full head of jet-black silk. Julia, her mother died during childbirth – Luann had been the one to put her down. One of the Saviors orphans. Some woman is holding her. Some woman that Beth has never seen in her life. She doesn't know these people, and neither does he. Why would he let one hold the baby?

Beth doesn't lunge for her – as badly as she wants to. That would startle the baby but she does move towards the pair instantly. Mac is all over it. Rather, all over her. He's called her Mamma Bear before, and Pack Mom, a billion other variations of mom that all play to her 'overly protective' nature. "Giv-" She doesn't even get to make the demand, Mac sweeps the baby out of the strangers arms and holds her out for the taking.

She moves faster to pull the child closer to her chest than she had moved to embrace Mac. The children are different. For a moment she forgets entirely about where she is, who she is with. Eric? Haley? It all fades. On some level she had been relieved to hear that Mac had survived. They worked together, trained together. That was nothing compared to what she's feeling now. The smile, slight as it may be, is genuine as she presses her lips to the top of Julia's head.

It's a nice moment. Arguably one of the better ones that she'd had the last few days, but it ends too soon. "Looks like she missed her mom." Paul offers. Beth's eyes immediately dart upwards – the spell now broken. She knows that tone. Julia isn't hers, not Mac's either. This guy, Paul, whoever the hell he is, knows that.

Whatever. There are more important things to worry about right now. They'd let her in, she'd seen the baby (whom she is cradling close to her chest) and she's got Mac. The trip to Hilltop had been a resounding success all things considered. Now she just needs the second leg of the journey to go just as smoothly.

Mac's talking about something. It's not directed towards her, he's talking to Paul. Something about how great she is with kids. Beth's barely listening. Her eyes are scanning the area again, force of habit. The hairs on the back of her neck are bristling and something, somewhere in the community is demanding her attention.

She's not sure why, Beth couldn't give a particular reason as to why her gaze settles on the building and slowly drifts upwards. "Who is that?" She asks as her eyes wander to a window. The men both pause and follow her gaze.

The person in the window isn't facing the glass but even if they were Beth is confident that it isn't a question that she could answer for herself. "Oh, that's Maggie." Paul offers, crossing his arms over top of his chest.

The Widow. Wasn't her name Maggie something?

As if the woman had heard the thought she turns towards the glass. She looks directly at her, too. Beth can't help it, the way she straightens up and squares her shoulders. It's difficult to read her expression from where she's standing but Beth knows that the woman's focusing right on her. She can practically feel it. They're staring at each other for no more than a handful of seconds when Maggie stumbles. An arm shoots out from beyond the window to steady her. Beth only turns away, uninterested.

Paul's brow is furrowed – he looks concerned and like he has something to say about the fact that it looked like his fearless leader nearly fainted. "I'll be right back." Maybe more than concerned, judging by the fact that he's more than fine with leaving them alone as he peels off towards the building.

 **xxx**

"Where's Bear?" She had heard mention of a dog. There had only been one. Mac shrugs.

"Probably parked in front of a fan somewhere. He's had a rough couple'a days. He'll be fine, though."

They're alone. Almost. As alone as they can be with Eric standing behind her, and while they stay directly in the middle of a walled in compound. Mac leans in, too close for her liking but she stays still. "Where's Sadie?"

Isn't that the million dollar question? Ever since she and Dwight had found the dog out on a run, they had been inseparable. Literally. She hadn't trusted anyone at the outpost enough to look after her while she was beyond the walls. Too many people looked at her like she was dinner, or worse, a source of entertainment.

"We're going to go get her." She doesn't mention Haley, or Alexandria. Not yet, because she can't. Not while they're being watched.

Mac runs his hand over his head. "You made some friends while I was gone?" He nods towards Eric who, seems startled that someone else has acknowledged his presence. Mac already has to know the situation on some level; besides she doesn't make friends. Even a stranger could see that the situation was less than friendly. Eric looks slightly less comfortable than a man about to be led up to a noose might be.

How does she explain this with ears around them on all sides? "I make friends everywhere I go."

He knows her well enough to know what pure bullshit that is. Which is probably why he suddenly looks so worried. Julia begins to fuss and squirm in her arms. "It's feeding time." The woman, who she had taken the child from, and has kept a watchful eye over them holds her arms out expectantly. It's more tempting than it should be to not let go of her; but this had always been the plan. To leave the children behind. They're going to Alexandria, hell in all likelihood they'll come face to face with Rick himself. That's no place for a child, let alone a baby. It is with the most disgruntled look she can manage that she finally hands the child over.

"Do you mind watching her, Kris?"

"Where are you going? "

He places a reassuring hand on the woman's shoulders. There are times, like now, where Beth is amazed that he hadn't been an actor before the world ended. "Gotta take care of something. I wont be long."

Yes you will. Beth thinks to herself. Chances are real good that once he leaves, he's never coming back. Paul hasn't returned yet and the woman whisks Julia away without so much as a second question. Mac leaves her side with strict instructions to meet back at the van. The one that the entire community had seen roll through the gates.

The guards are elsewhere. Talking to the blacksmith or something; Beth's got no idea who it is but they've got what looks like a crude smithing set up. They're occupied.

"So where is she?" Eric jumps about a foot when Mac returns. Beth can't help but smirk. He's far from the type of company that she's used to. Now, she can say. They have the cover of the van, and the guards are occupied (even if they already know – it's Mac's reaction that she doesn't want them to see.)

"With Haley." Beth leans back against the van door. Mac's looking at her, he's waiting for more. "They took Haley."

Instantly the smiling, happy man vanishes. "Who did?"

Beth throws her head to the side, nodding towards Eric. "They didn't -" He tries to defend himself.

"No one's talking to you." Mac snaps. Eric immediately falls silent. "Where's he from?"

She takes another quick survey of the area. "Alexandria."

He doesn't ask why or how. In the grand scheme, those factors aren't important. What is, is that one of theirs is behind enemy lines. Haley wasn't one of the children, one of the refugees. She wasn't supposed to be there.

Apparently, their presence doesn't go unnoticed because it's not long after that when the guards return. They ask if she's done with whatever it was she needed to do and Beth tries her best not to sound too eager when she says yes. They're loaded up into the back of the van, which now is just a little more cramped.

The ride is silent. She has no idea how long the drive will actually be. All she knows is that Alexandria is where they're meant to be headed.

It's about an hour in when she feels the toe of a boot jam into her shin. "Ow." She hisses, dropping her hand to rub the sore patch. Another jab. She looks up, glaring daggers at Mac.

 _"Escort?"_ He signs, glancing towards the front of the fan.

 _"Kings guard."_ She replies slowly. There are times, like now, where she's thankful for the books and the annoying lessons that both Mac and Haley had subjected her to. Non-verbal communication had to be one of the best skills she'd learned since waking up, hands down.

 _"They work for him?"_ Beth shakes her head.

 _"King?"_ She asks

Mac shakes his head. Oh. So Rick then. The communities are working together, but the extent of their involvement is unclear.

 _"Does he know?"_ This time Beth does not ask for clarification. He's got to be asking if Rick knows – if Rick knows they're coming. She hopes he doesn't, but she's got no way to know for sure. All she can do is let her shoulders rise and fall. It's not an answer that Mac likes.

 **xxx**

There's nothing else for a long while. No more whispers. No more pointed looks. The sun's setting, her legs are cramping from the way she's been sitting. She's been in her own little world. Her mind keeps drifting back to the Hilltop. How just being there had made her skin crawl. Had the woman in the window really been the Widow? Why hadn't she come out to greet her visitors? In what world would anyone in their right mind let strangers waltz right through their gates without at least checking them out first?

A display of poor leadership, if you asked her. She would have liked to meet her. She's heard stories, everyone has. The Widow who miraculously came back to life, not unlike Jesus Christ herself. Of course that hadn't happened. No one does that, nobody comes back to life. She'd just never been dead. Still, that doesn't make for a very interesting story.

It's dark outside when she feels yet another jab to her shin. "Jesus Christ, what?" Beth hisses under her breath. Mac gets up, moving over to find a seat on the floor of the van beside her.

"We've gotta be close. I don't want to go in with them." He's not signing this time, he's whispering. Arm around her, right in her ear. To keep up appearances. As far as Ezekiel's people knew, they were a husband and wife reunited. Who would really put much thought into two reunited lovers cuddling after what could have been an extended absence?

So Beth plays along, plays her role. Burying her face against the side of his. "We agreed on safe passage."

She can practically feel him rolling his eyes. "Yeah, and once we're there they'll have delivered on their end. What's keeping them from turning on us?"

Up front, the passengers side seat squeaks as the guard shifts in his seat. Beth pulls her head away, eyes narrowing. "You mind?" She asks with a pointed gaze. The guard only shakes his head and turns back up towards the dash. Privacy granted, somewhat anyways.

"We take the van," Mac whispers against the column of her throat. "- and we get Hals. We don't need them."

The King had promised safe passage and the trip to the Hilltop had been just that. Safe, completely uneventful. The air at Alexandria will be different. She's not picking up an old friend there, she's exchanging hostages. What if they do turn? Ezekiel didn't seem to be the type, for better or worse, he seems too genuine. But his people? Maybe they didn't hold themselves up to their King's own moral codes.

Either way going in, they'll be outnumbered. Not the first time and likely wouldn't even be the last. It's a long stretch of silence. She's weighing the pros and cons. It wouldn't be the stupidest thing they've ever done. It would be a contender for the top spot, though.

"We take the van." She says finally, in a voice barely a whisper, pressing her head back against the cool metal. "Then we get Haley."

* * *

 **A/N** : I hope this chapter didn't seemed at all rushed to you guys I know the switching between Carol and Beth's POV, as well as a few time skips may have been confusing. I was worried about slowing the pacing down because I did not intend for Maggie and Beth to have a 'proper' reunion, and having her spend an extended period of time at Hilltop, that would have been inevitable. So I needed her to get in and get right back out.

Having Maggie see, but not actually get to 'meet' Beth was hard. From the beginning, this was always the intention. I could not see anyone in their right mind allowing Beth to encounter Maggie without a buffer, if at all. If one of your loved ones magically reappeared after you 'buried' them, would you not freak out? Rush to hold them? Make sure they're real? Beth is a risk plain and simple. Carol knows this, Carol has had /some/ time at least to process this information. Even if it is Beth, she couldn't put Maggie at risk (I don't see her doing it, anyways) because let's face it - Beth would not react well to an emotional, tearful greeting or reunion.

For those side-eyeing the ever loving crap out of Mac. I know, believe me, he may be a somewhat creepy asshole but remember - He's Beth's creepy asshole. So far, Beth has not aligned herself with anyone 'bad' (Well, not full on Negan. For example - Gavin, Lu, Haley and Siddiq) that have been named so far) so just trust me here. I will also delve a little into Mac's backstory, why he is the way he is, in an upcoming installment for Polaroids which I am currently working on. You will see more of him in both series. He has played a big part in Beth's new life to this point and I have no intention to shelve him now.

I think that's about all for now. I am off to fix another cup of iced coffee.

Thank you all for reading! Let me know what you think, if you feel so inclined.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note** : Yes this update is coming to you super fast. I thought about waiting and working on Chapter 9 and a few of my WIP's for Polaroids but ya'll have been so excellent and supportive of myself and this story. You deserve a super fast update.

As always, this is unbeta'd so the inevitable mistakes are all on me.

Enjoy!

* * *

Best case scenario they manage to trade Eric for Haley and Sadie and they can turn around and go on their way. Worst case, someone gets killed. Isn't that always the case? No matter what they're doing, it's always going to be dangerous. These days even going to take a piss when you're on the run could end in the worst case – dying. The odds have been stacked against her from day one, what was pushing her luck one more time? Now that she has back up it's so easy to abandon the plan. The ideas she'd run through her mind on the way to the Kingdom now sound so much better, so much more manageable. They shouldn't – Mac is only one man and no amount of training or experience changes that but they do.

They've done this before. Not this exact thing, hostage exchange. Taking over, changing the plan on the fly. She's slid up behind people and wrapped her wires around their throat while he took a more violent approach to subduing any extra bodies. It's easy, effortless. They're a good team. The van veers off to the side of the road and narrowly misses a tree but that's alright. She has a rough idea of where they are, they could walk from there if need be.

She uses her wires. Mac uses the window frame on the door. Couldn't be bothered with pulling his gun out, would have been awkward at the angle. Beth doesn't like his approach. It's much more violent – more a chance for serious injury but she can't argue it's effectiveness. Once they're both out they drag them into the back.

Eric's panicking. She can't blame him. He's woken up to the sounds of people gasping for air and the sickening thud that comes from skulls meeting glass. Unlike the guards he doesn't fight, if anything he more tries to blend in with the side of the van while they go about their business. Still, after they make sure the guards are tied (and gagged), Eric gets a similar treatment. Beth doesn't bother arguing against it, it's not worth the time that winning a fight with Mac would take. They had more important things to do.

She gets in the drivers seat once it's all done and he's satisfied with the knots. He's never been to Alexandria. She has. Not inside, but she's scouted the area; she's watched them from the trees and they'd been none the wiser to it.

Once the guards are taken care of Mac is considerably more relaxed. They may as well be out on a supply run or something, his feet are up on the dash and he's got the seat reclined as far as he can get it. "So what do you think about Paul?"

Really? He's going to start on that now? She supposes that she shouldn't be surprised. This is Mac. "You going to ask him to prom?"

Mac lets out a laboured sigh and lets his head rest against the glass. "Fuck, I wish. That man is gorgeous. Couldn't exactly flirt and play the missing wife card at the same time, could I?" The way he says it, the disappointment in his voice doesn't match the shit-eating grin on his face. Yeah, that probably wouldn't have worked out real well. Beth's amazed he managed to keep in his pants that long. "You know he went out to look for you. Widow didn't even ask, he just offered. He seems like a good guy."

Beth doesn't have much experience with crushes, she doesn't remember ever having one, ever hearing about one. Mac made up for that ten fold. "He's the Widow's good guy. That means he's Rick's." She probably shouldn't crush his dream plans like that – it's how he makes it through the days after all. She can't help it. In what universe would shit like that ever work out? A Savior with someone like that? With the enemy?

"You're only pissy because you haven't found a Jesus yet." Okay, Beth's hands tighten on the steering wheel. First of all he finds a 'Jesus' every month or two. Second – he's calling him Jesus? Seriously?

She should be the adult. She should just let that comment go right over her head. Not the first time they've talked about her sex life or relationship status, whatever he's classifying this crap as. "You're kidding me, right?"

"About what?"

"You're calling him Jesus?"

Both his hands come up as if to say hey – wait a second. "No. That's what he calls himself. Besides it's not like it's wrong. You picked up a bible lately? Christ is supposed to be a goddamn supermodel." She can't actually argue the facts there. Reading that brick hadn't been high up on her to-do list. Despite his insistence that in a past life she'd probably known the good book inside and out, she can't recall it for shit.

She just chooses not to comment on it. He'll pick up on the fact that she's about reached her limit for that sort of talk the same way he always does. Right on schedule Mac moves onto something else. "What were you doing out with Haley? You've barely let her go out on runs since all this shit started." It's not really a better subject by any means. He doesn't know about what happened with Siddiq, the fact that she'd been running him supplies. If he had even an inkling he'd never let on.

Beth can only manage another shrug. "Gavin had shit for me to do and I needed an extra set of eyes. You were busy with Jesus." Plus she hadn't even known that he'd made it out of the forest alive, so there's that. "She's gotta learn sometime. I can't hide her from everything." Her voice is sour. A harsh reality. Haley did need to learn how to protect herself, how to operate out in the world because there'd be a time where she wouldn't be there to look after her. She wouldn't always have someone. It's a reality that Mac knows well enough, and a line of reasoning that he's least likely to question.

He looks like he's mulling it over. Not even the least phased by her poor joke. "How'd it happen?"

It's not accusatory. She knows that somewhere in there, he's pissed about it. He treats the girl like she's his damn sister, they were close long before she had been shipped to the outpost. He knows that she'd never willingly have let her get taken. "It was stupid. I left her with Sadie and went to check the area. I left Sadie with her and she had a rifle..." Beth glances up at the rear view mirror. "They must have gotten there after I left her. I found him, as soon as I realized there were others I hauled ass back. She was just gone." Now he looks worried, an expression that she isn't used to seeing on his face. "No signs a struggle. No shots, didn't hear Sadie. I don't think they hurt her but..." But there's always a chance.

"You're sure Sadie's with her?"

Her head bobs up and down. "Couldn't find the leash, checked the area for her. She's gotta be with Haley." Beth knows what he's thinking. That it's fucking weird. Sadie's people skills aren't the finest. She greets strangers about the same way as she confronts walkers. With a bark and snarl, warnings to stay back. At the very least she should have heard Sadie, and any subsequent events to silence the dog.

It's after a brief period of silence where Beth finally asks the most important question. "How are we going to play this?" It's been almost a day since Haley had been taken which would have been more than enough time for Eric to have been returned. The gas station hadn't been that far from Alexandria, and saying that Eric hadn't been forthcoming with his location...it feels too weak. She doesn't like it.

"If they don't know who Haley is then it should be easy. You fucked up and the two of you were separated, we're thankful that they saved Haley and we would like to return the favor."

Beth opens her mouth to disagree with him. It's her knee jerk reaction to try and defend herself with a claim that it wasn't her fault. She hadn't fucked up, but her mouth closes just as quickly. She had left her alone. The scouting was only supposed to take a few minutes, Haley should have been fine for a few minutes. "What if she's said something?" Beth asks as she presses her the sole of her boot just a little harder against the petal.

It's not outside the realm of possibility. The sole thing that they have going for them is the fact that Haley typically isn't verbal until she is comfortable with someone. Unless they happened to have someone fluent in ASL or were happy to wait while she wrote everything else, the odds of there being any real communication were slim. They still have to consider all the possible outcomes. Otherwise they may as well just be going into it blindfolded.

It's for that exact reason that Mac's actually considering the question instead of shrugging it off. They're Saviors. Haley is a Savior. They are the enemy. "I guess in that case we're just going to have to find out how much they love your new buddy."

 **xxx**

They stash the van in the brush, off an old dirt road nearby. They have a dimly lit night on their side, unless someone's shining spotlights along side the road the van wont be touched. Mac double-checks his hard work, making sure the guards are secure. They're awake now, but they wont be going anywhere. When he tries to reassure them that they'll be back and they'll get to go home all safe and sound, just glare and try to kick him. Which only gets them a laugh and the doors of the van slammed shut in their faces.

For the walk Eric's hands remained tied and there's still a strip of tape over his mouth, those will come off once they're closer. Mac has his bag and his rifle for the walk, but they aren't going in there with it. You can't easily conceal a rifle, they may not appreciate some stranger walking in equipped like that. So they'll stash it. It's hand guns, knives, and wires. They aren't planning on needing to use any of it. Get in, make the trade, get the hell out, and get as far away from Alexandria as possible.

She doesn't get one of the handguns. Beth can't blame him, not like she had really wanted one anyways. She can't control a gun the way she can a knife, not by a long shot. Mac's the one with training. Mac's the one with a steady hand and precise aim. "You have a bandana or something?"

Beth peers past Eric who is trudging along between the two of them. "For what? It's dark outside. Isn't it going to look suspicious if one of us looks like they're about to rob a bank?"

"We're already going to be outnumbered. Look at you, you're like a twig. You basically glow in the dark. There's nothing threatening about you unless you get up close – I need threatening. At least we can have them thinking you're a boy or something." Okay, she has a few problems with that. Multiple problems. What the hell difference does it make if they think she's a boy? A big one apparently because Mac pulls out a rumpled up black bandana from his pocket and holds it out to her expectantly, waving it in the air in front of her face.

Beth snatches it up with a disgruntled growl. The thing smells like sweat and who knows what other liquids, bodily or otherwise had been wiped on the damn thing. He wont let up until she takes it though. Beth adjusts her cap and places the fabric – which smells even grosser now – against her face. _Fine._

They cover the basics one more time. Eric wont say a goddamn thing, and neither will she. Mac is the only one allowed to talk. They're close now. Close enough that she removes Eric's restraints and the gag, gives him a quick once over with a pen knife. There's slight bruising around his throat which remains largely hidden between his shirt and the collar of his jacket. Otherwise he's scratch free. She did good. He wouldn't have wound up looking like this if Mac had been the one to subdue him. They wont look at him and think abuse, hopefully they wont think hostage either.

Now they slip into their ritual. It's probably stupid, more than a little. They're out in the open and it wont be long before they're in the sight lines of the front gate and the walls. It's something Mac had done since she'd met him. It's so familiar to her now she doesn't think much of it. Doesn't think about the fact that it could give them away, or draw walkers.

She doesn't sing right away. Doesn't usually sing at all. She's never liked her voice, and it's so deeply personal. Music's not bad, but she's always had more important things to focus on. Like trying to survive. With Mac, participation is expected.

 _Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill_  
 _Called himself the savior of the human race_  
 _Said he come to save the world from destruction and pain_  
 _But I said, "how can you save the world from itself?"_

She waits until the last possible second. Mac whistles along, setting the tune. The outro is coming up. It's stupid, maybe even ironic that they're singing this now. It always is.

He looks at her expectantly. Just the same way he always does. She knows this song and it's the last chance she has to participate. It's easier if she does. So she sings.

 _'Cause I walk through the valley of the shadow of death_  
 _And I'll fear no evil because I'm blind_  
 _And I walk beside the still waters, and they restore my soul_  
 _But I know when I die my soul is damned_

The last notes die on the breeze as gates come into view. They pause, both exchanging a familiar look. They've got this. They always do.

 **xxx**

She can see figures along the top of the wall. Someone's shouting something that sounds a heck of a lot like 'We've got movement' and another body pops up. Beth puts a hand on Eric's arm, nails digging into the jacket. She knows he wants to run. If she were in her position, that's exactly what she would do. Shake off her captors and book it to safety.

The ever present threat of violence keeps him in place, walking in step with the rest of them.

"Showtime." Mac mutters under his breathe. They are well, well within shooting range now.

They've never done anything like this before. At least she hasn't. The closest she's come has been looting a hostile camp. A bunch of people who had refused Negan. Clear the camp, take their supplies. She's not the biggest fan of music but there's a song that had been playing in the car as they'd thrust the doors open and jumped out – guns blazing. A song that comes up every once and awhile, when shit feels particularly dicey. Mac called it mood music, he'd caught her 'singing' it out loud once.

 _Big shot screaming put your hands in the sky,_

There's activity on the wall now. At least three people that she can see. "Stop right there." A female voice calls out into the night. They stop.

Mac nudges Eric's side with his elbow. "You're up." Eric looks startled, after having been explicitly told to keep his mouth shut now he has to talk.

"Tara! It's me!"

Silence for a minute, she's not close enough to hear what they're saying. "Eric? Who the hell do you have with you?"

Beth digs her nails in even harder, causing Eric to flinch. He could squeal. He could share the harrowing tale of his capture and have them both shot where they stood.

 _He says 'ive it up boy, give it up or you're gonna die'_

"T-they're friends. They saved me."

Huh. They sure as shit hadn't told him to say that. There's a shake in his voice but if he's going to play the 'I was in terrible danger card' like it sounds as if he just might – that shake might be a little more understandable.

"It's Eric!" This time there's no need to take a guess at what the trio on the wall are saying. Somebody go get Aaron, and wake up Rick."

Beth adjusts the bandana over her face, tugging down the edge of her beanie a little more. The gates open which, they take as their signal to proceed.

Mac's ritual song had never felt more fitting as it did the moment she stepped through those goddamn gates.

 **xxx**

Alexandria, may as well be hell. The gates don't even shut behind them and already her skin is crawling like she's been covered in a million tiny insects from head to toe. How many of these people had killed some of hers? How many had shed blood at the satellite outpost? Massacred dozens and dozens of people while they slept. It shouldn't make her feel more on edge than walking through the Sanctuary does (haven't both their people commit massacres at this point?) yet somehow, it does.

Mac and Eric take the lead, Beth stands behind the two. Watching Mac's back while remaining largely hidden. "We've been looking everywhere for you. What the hell happened?" Of the three, two had climbed off of the wall to 'greet' them while the other bolted in the opposite direction. The plan had been for Eric to remain silent, but cutting him off now...it wouldn't look good for either of them.

Christ she doesn't like it. Their fate, the fate of this entire goddamn things is resting on the shoulders of the man she kidnapped. As if she wasn't already uncomfortable. If Mac had given her a gun, she would have been ghosting her finger over the trigger. "I screwed up. I was clearing the woods around the gas station and a walker caught me off guard, I tripped and hit the back of my head off of the rock," Eric glances over his shoulder nervously towards her as he speaks. "They found me. By the time we got back to the gas station Aaron and Carl had already gone."

Beth waits for the other shoe to drop. It was smart, picking a wound that could be fairly easily healed. On the back of his head, underneath the hair. You didn't need blood for a head wound to be serious.

"Why didn't you meet them?" The Tara woman asks, Beth cringes at the sound of her voice.

"They spent too much time taking care of me," Beth almost can't believe it. The lies are flowing so effortlessly. She is quite honestly more than a little impressed. "By the time I came around it was too late and we were already too far from the rendezvous."

Beth resists the urge to take a glance at Mac because she's curious. Curious to see if he's as amazed by this load of horseshit as she is.

At least they wont get shot right away. There's still a chance. The woman standing beside Tara with the cap on, her eyes are narrowed. She's got one of those faces – and a scar. She looks like she'd as soon as shoot you as ask your name. She had that cutthroat, ruthless look to her.

"We had someone else with us in the woods. We lost her, we're hoping your people might have found her? A girl, short brown hair. She's got a-"

"Hellhound?" Scar-face asks, adjusting the rifle in her hands.

"Yeah," Mac says with a soft smile. "are they here?"

They'd better be. She shifts her weight from foot to foot. There's people approaching. Lights have flickered on in some of the houses around them. Beth can practically feel the prying eyes through the curtains. They know. Tara's talking, she's barely listening. More concerned with the two coming their way. It needs to be over and it needs to be over quick. In an out, no complications.

The anxiety that had so stubbornly clung to her when the gate had opened only increases tenfold when a man and woman step into view. "Rick," Scar-face addresses the man. Beth's blood runs so cold that ice may as well have been injected right into her veins. "They found Eric."

The Rick. Who else would they have gone to get? What were the odds that there were two of them in the community? Get in and get out. Her brain urges her. Get in and get out.

Jesus she can feel him sizing her up. The woman at his side is doing the same goddamn thing. "You send someone to get Aaron?" Both woman nod in unison.

"They're asking about the girl."

"Haley." Mac offers helpfully.

"She's here," Rick raises his hands and rests them on his belt. Close to the handle of his gun, Beth doesn't miss it. "She's safe."

She better be.

The sound of footsteps, heavy against the asphalt have her hands finding her own belt. "Can we see her?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea. It's late, she's probably asleep."

Beth can feel Mac deadpan. "You could wake her up."

Something's off. The footfalls are coming closer now. "Eric?!" She recognizes the voice, it's the one that she'd heard over the radio in the forest.

"Do you have a name, friend?" She doesn't like this. Doesn't like this at all. She can't put her finger on it. Maybe it's the fact that they're trapped. That it's just the two of them and right now Mac's staring down Rick. Number one on Negan's hit list. The man who had slaughtered dozens upon dozens of their people.

To his credit he tries to keep his tone even. It's no time to get angry or demanding. "It's Mac. This here's Bird," Rick cocks an eyebrow at that, and Beth sidesteps slightly so that Eric's obscuring some of his view. Even keeps her head down.

"I'm Rick, Rick Grimes. This is Michonne." He motions to the woman beside him. "That's Tara, and she's Rosita."

The footfalls stop, the newcomer is panting. "Aaron!" Eric sounds so broken when he says the name. Like he might just start crying then and there.

"Nice to meet you." It's a good thing that Mac's doing the talking because he's good at this. The acting. She isn't. There's no way she could fake that. She knows that he's gotta be squirming on the inside just as much as she is. "You've got a nice place here. From what I've heard from Eric, ya'll are good folks." Jesus she has to bite down on her tongue to keep from snorting. "If you could just wake her up. We've been worried sick, we thought a walker got her. Please." Just a hint of desperation. It should work. But it doesn't.

It's not going to happen. She doesn't know how she knows – just that she does. There's people out on porches now, and someone had come up jogging behind the runner. Christ if Rick looked imposing, this guy just about gave him a run for his money. The song's playing in her head against, it's not helping matters. It's the sort of song you play before a fight, or during one.

 _You'll get a bullet in the back of the neck,_

Rick's hand is still too close to his gun for her liking. The woman's got something on her back. What is that, a sword or something? Tara and Rosita are armed. The new guy, long-hair has something too. She catches the glints of metal under the moonlight. Looks like a crossbow or something. The longer they stand there the louder the music and the warning bells in her mind grow. "We aren't looking for trouble. We just want our girl back." He's trying to appeal to their better nature.

As if they actually have one. It wont work.

Aaron goes to step forward and Rick holds an arm out. Which only garners a confused look from the rest. That's not a good sign. That isn't a good sign at all. "Why don't we let her sleep. You can see her in the morning." Rick says cautiously. Like he's picking each and every word with the utmost consideration.

No. They wont fucking see her in the morning. "I want to see her now." Beth steps out from the shadow of the men.

"Bird-"

No, fuck that. "We brought him back. He's safe, he's unharmed. Where is she?"

If she had thought something was wrong before. It's worse now. It's so much worse because Rick, Michonne, and the newcomer are all staring at her. Eyes wide like an animal caught in the headlights. Someone's grabbing her arm, trying to pull her back. Trying to reel her in. Fuck that, she thinks as she jerks it away. "Where the hell is she?" Was the bandana obscuring her voice? Was it not clear enough what she wanted? Beth rips the thing off, letting it fall to the ground.

It's so much worse.

 _In the back of the neck_  
 _Right between the eyes_

Now Tara and Rosita, they've got that same look too. There's not a fucking sound coming from any of them. She is in panic mode. Fight or flight. It's quickly rushing to the point where she has no control over it. They've got about two seconds.

That's when it happens. There's a whimper, not a dog, human. Someone lunges for her, the one with the crossbow. She moves fast, one hand grabbing Eric's hair and jerks him backwards so hard he nearly stumbles. "Beth!" Who was that, Mac maybe? Her pulse roars in her ears. Someone calls out Eric's name, too.

The other hand holds a knife to Eric's throat. Beth presses harder. She doesn't need to see to know there should be a small trickle of blood from where the point is piercing his skin. "Don't move!" She cries out. Everyone stops. Her heart is pounding in her chest and her arm, the one that's holding Eric starts to tremble which only causes her to tighten her grip. The giant with the crossbow freezes right in front of her. He just stops, for a good reason to. There's no missing the knife, there's just enough light to make the metal shine in the darkness. She'll do it if she has to. She's done it before. What was one more name on the list? "Don't fucking move!" It's the last warning she'll give. One more step, and their friend is gone. They'll get Haley back. They'll get Haley back if she has to take each and everyone one of these people down with her bare hands.

* * *

 **A/N** : Okay first order of business. The songs in this chapter, if you should feel so inclined to check them out are:

Song #1 is Through The Valley by Shawn James  
Song #2 (Beth's 'fight' song) is Hands in the Sky by Straylight Run.

Yes, that was a cliffhanger. I am hoping that ya'll wont hold it against me for too long.

I know it's probably a bit irritating but I highly suggest you guys check out a song called Girl From The North Country by Lions. Give it a listen and picture Daryl, preferably Daryl at the end of this chapter. Also because I like giving homework, has anyone re watched 5x01 recently? Carol's reunion with the group? Again, picture Daryl but in the context of this fic.

It's important to me that you all know he wasn't the imminent threat that Beth perceived him to be. Which I imagine you all will have picked up on anyways. Because aside from being a small angry thing, Beth doesn't initially draw a weapon and Mac does NOT have his gun out. So why would someone charge at her to disarm or contain her? Yeah, they wouldn't/ If some big hulking stranger came at me I would probably get incredibly defensive, too in a similar scenario. Even if Daryl was just going for an embrace, a spur of the moment thing because -holy shit that's Beth-. Shout out to Beth for ruining everything btw. Our precious murder baby's paranoia and fear have a nasty habit of overruling common sense.

Also for those fearing for Eric's safety. I promise you, he lives. That's not even a spoiler if you've seen any of my late night rambling on tumblr. He'll just get a little scar and Aaron may never, ever let him leave the house again but he lives!

So what do ya'll think? How much are you absolutely dreading Chapter 9? Feel free to share your thoughts and concerns :D


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note** : First off, hello!

I have a few things to get to before the chapter. Most importantly my extended absence. It was unplanned and quite frankly far out of my control. My life has gone through some fairly big and dramatic changes since my last update. Some good, some bad. Over the summer I went through a very, very long depressive episode. I have depression and severe anxiety, and these flared up in a way I have not had to deal with in 10 years. From July to September I was having an incredibly difficult time.I had my ass handed to me, it made doing most things hard. Writing is one of those things. I had the ideas, but I didn't have the energy or drive. I was also afraid of 'forcing my way through' it to update. WDWG is not, so far, a very happy-shiny fic. I was worried that the content might effect my mood, and that my mood would effect the content. Meaning it wouldn't be 'up to standard' or it might be a bit more...doom and gloom than intended. For this reason, I didn't update. I know I posted a few other things, side stories to Polaroids. That didn't require the same sort of energy/mood that working on WDWG does, and it was my way or sort of 'keeping sharp' so to speak.

I am out of the woods now and ready to get back on the horse.

This chapter has been a long time coming and I hope you guys enjoy it!

Finally I'd like to thank the people who sent me messages and comments, and read even while this story was in an update drought. I can't thank you all enough for the support I've received and continue to receive. You guys are the best.

* * *

It doesn't fit. He'd gone back, taken a map, hell he'd even had Aaron mark the perimeter. The girl had said that she had been alone, just her and that damn dog. The signs of disturbance at the gas station he attributed to her. Freshly swiped patches of dirt and old candy bar wrappers. The trail behind the gas station, well worn and still freshly traveled. Two distinctive sets of footprints. One he figures to be Eric's. The boots are about the same size, the other set is much smaller. He loses the trail out of the woods. Wherever Eric went, whoever he was with, they had must have taken the main road out. Which meant a car, which meant he was out of his depth.

He doesn't look forward to returning empty handed. Daryl doesn't know which is worse. Not knowing or having a crystal clear answer when it came to the fate of a loved one. He'll go back out later, that much is almost inevitable. What the fuck else is he gonna do anyways? Sleep? The thought is almost laughable.

With any luck he'll get back and find out that they'd gotten something out of the girl. Something about that doesn't rub him the right way. There's no way she'd been living at the gas station. No well, no running water. The girl had been clean. Like she'd just showered. No scrapes, not even a bruise as far as he could tell. Plus the place had been littered with candy bar wrappers – no sign of actual food. She wasn't skin and bones, when Michonne offered her food she didn't jump at it like some starved thing. She wasn't wild, she'd come from somewhere.

Then there's the matter of the hearing aid. That dog she had tied up to her waist would only be able to do so much. Anybody can learn to survive on their own, even children. He's nothing if not a testament to that. Just...nothing about her suggests she had. The way she'd held the rifle had been clumsy, like she was unsure of it. The things weren't exactly made for someone her size but even so. If she had survived on her own for any amount of time with partial loss of one of her senses, he'd be the first in line to admit that it's impressive. She's gotta be about Carl's age. Unless she was only just recently setting out on her own.

It just doesn't fit.

It's with the utmost reluctance that he drags his sorry ass through the doorway. Sort of feels like he shouldn't even been showing his face. What the fuck sort of tracker was he, returning empty handed without the slightly goddamn clue as to where they outta look next? Aaron wont get ticked. He'll be upset – any normal person would be. Wont take it out on him though, he isn't like that. Still he wont need to. Doesn't need to.

Aaron's sitting at the kitchen table. There's a flicker of something – hope he thinks, and it fades as soon as they lock eyes. Daryl shakes his head, turning his gaze towards the carpet. Aaron understands. "Rick an' Carl get anything else outta her?" His voice is gruff, quiet.

Aaron turns his eyes upwards. There's a spare room right above the kitchen. That's where they'd set her up. Rick's place is too crowded. "She still says that she was out there alone." He wonders if it's possible that it's all unrelated. That the second set of boot prints didn't have any ties to her.

"Don't buy it." The other man blinks at him. "If she was out there on her own, she hasn't been for long. Reminds me of the first time we saw you." Daryl pauses, bites his tongue. He wants to say no offense because it wasn't meant to sound that bad. Aaron's gotta know what he's angling at. The girl is too put together, too clean, too everything. It's like she'd been living in a place like Alexandria. Well, like Alexandria before it had all gone to shit. Thing is, the other communities know about them. Most people have seen him, Michonne, or Rick. They've gone back and forth enough. Wasn't so much as a flicker of recognition in her eyes. Even if she'd never seen 'em before, she'd have heard of them. She wouldn't have looked at them all uncertain the way she had. So where the hell was she from?

She must have sensed that she was being talked about because he can hear footsteps coming down the staircase. She isn't quiet, but he has to figure she doesn't know just how loud she's being. She walks into the kitchen, sketchpad tucked under her arm. Doesn't look around or say anything just goes right for the sink. How the hell is she already comfortable?

"Glasses are above the stove." Aaron calls out as he pushes himself out of the chair. This causes her to jump about ten feet in the air. She whirls around like she's just been caught breaking and entering. The sketchbook comes out fast, then the scrawling. She can't talk. Least if she can, she doesn't want to. Not unless he'd missed something.

 _'Sorry'_ is what the page that she holds up says. _'Sadie needs water.'_

The dog. She must have left her upstairs because there's no growling that he can hear. Even with a muzzle on that thing had made it clear that she wasn't happy about her predicament, or the company. Rather than attempt to explain where the bowls are Aaron heads into the kitchen and the girl sets the pad down.

There's a different page facing upwards. He takes a couple steps closer, not that she seems to mind. She's too busy poking around the cupboards. Carl had said that she could draw, she had a bunch of notebooks and pencils in her bag. She'd shown him some pictures on the way back. There isn't much to the one he's looking at now. In fact the top half of the page is laid out exactly how you'd find a dictionary. A word, bunch of symbols and shit to tell you how to pronounce the word, then the definitions.

The word phoenix is written in bold letters.

Underneath it there's a pair of wings. They almost look like his. The edges are a bit more pointed, plus they're a bit dirty and torn up. Look signed around the tips which makes sense because the only bit of color on the entire page are the flames that surround the wings. Sort of looks like wings are springing out of them. He isn't some expert but a phoenix is a bird, they sure as heck don't look like bird's wings. Whatever – maybe bird wings weren't what she had been going for.

Daryl hadn't meant to get caught looking. Which means of course he is. She turns around and just looks at him for a second. Then reaches for the paper, flips the page. It's beyond him why because he hadn't said one thing about it either way. The next page has the same word printed on it, same couple definitions but the picture underneath is different.

It's a person. Outline of one at least, just an outline. Like a cookie cutter mold. The only thing the outline has are wings, the only distinctive feature. Similar to like what was on the first page, just minus the fire and the scorch marks. Reminds him of the vest. Reminds him a lot of the vest. He's got no clue why she'd flipped the page, maybe she'd thought he was interested or some shit.

She doesn't do it again. Instead she gathers up the sketchbook and the bowl of water and pads back upstairs without so much as another word – or a note.

"Weird kid." Daryl mumbles under his breath.

Aaron leans back against the sink and crosses his arms over his chest. "Carl was thinking that she had run away from somewhere, a group maybe." There's a question in his voice. He has a feeling he knows what the man's getting at.

"She's comfortable. She ain't afraid of people." Weird isn't really accurate enough. Hell if he hasn't come across someone like her in a long time.

They'll keep an eye on her. She'd surrendered all her weapons willingly, didn't even make a fuss about it. Not that she'd been carrying much aside from a knife and a rifle. Tomorrow when he isn't so bone tired maybe he'll try his hand at talking to her. Or at least give Rick or the boy a list of questions to throw at her.

Daryl beelines for the kitchen, reaching for the bread box and a knife from the block. They have bigger things to worry about than some over-trusting kid and her angry ass dog.

"I'm going back out."

"You just got in.

"So'?"

"At least take a nap. You've been out there all day."

Daryl grunts.

"He knows the area better than anyone, we spent so much time outside recruiting. I want to find him too, but neither of us are going to be any use if we're exhausted." Daryl opens his mouth to argue, only to promptly shut it again. "He's tougher than he looks." Aaron cracks a smile. A pained smile, but it's still a smile. He's trying to be comforting.

A few months ago, a little longer, someone getting lost would have been worrying. Would have made them all panic but now? With Negan and the Saviors? "Half an hour." The bearded man nods towards the living room.

Fucking fine.

Daryl lets the crossbow slip over his shoulder as he trudges out of the dining room. "Half an hour."

 **xxx**

Aaron was supposed to wake him up. He wasn't supposed to be out long, he could work on no sleep. Daryl doesn't know how long he'd been passed out on the couch when the front door flies open. Someone yelling for Aaron. Eric's back. That's all the get before the guy darts back out the door like his ass is on fire.

Aaron says nothing, he only bolts. He can't blame him. He just follows him out. Sure enough there's a little crowd not far up the street. He can hear Eric's voice. It's a relief. A feeling that he doesn't have much experience with. Fuck, he'd been worried he'd wind up bringing a body back and that would have been the best case scenario – if they found him at all.

For the first time in forever, they have a win. Daryl's amazed that Aaron doesn't lurch forward

Eric isn't alone. He's got two people right behind him. One guy, and someone much smaller. He can't make it out. The stranger's talkin', smiling. He's about the only person who looks relaxed. Whatever the guy was trying to sell, Rick very clearly wasn't interested in buying. "We aren't looking for trouble. We just want our girl back." That's what the guy says. They're here for the girl. That figures, ain't all that surprising. He knew that she hadn't been out there alone – no way in hell.

It should be simple. Eric's back and they want to see the kid. Nobody is moving. No one's going back to the house to grab the girl, no one's trying to reassuring them that she's okay. Rick and the stranger are settled into a weird staring match of some sort. A stand off.

Fuck it if he hasn't seen this before.

The relief quickly washes away. _One of yours for one of mine._ He's pretty sure no one's saying it but the words echo in his mind. Rick's trying to keep control of the conversation. He isn't kicking them out, even if he should. Giving them a line about letting the kid sleep, they can see her in the morning. That gives them time to figure out who the hell these people are, to decide if they get to see the girl.

The guy doesn't look happy but he doesn't look dumb enough to pull some shit. Almost looks like he might just accept it. They're outnumbered and that would be the smart play – a survivors move. Whoever the fuck he's with ain't all that accepting, though. They've got other plans.

They step out of the shadow's now. They find their voice – whoever the fuck they are. Jesus, they sound pissed. That's what gets him at first. It's hard to make out their face, but he can feel the anger rolling off of them in waves.

The guy tries. He only gets one word out, a name. What sort of name is _'Bird'_ anyway? Then again, Carol's called him Pookie for how long now? Ain't like he's one to judge.

They keep talking. She keeps talking. It's fucking weird, that tone sounds so familiar and so foreboding all at the same time. It's so much like him of that time Beth had flipped him off. Declared she wasn't staying in his suck-ass camp.

"Where the hell is she?"

There's just enough light now that he can see. The woman's wearing a bandanna, which she wastes no time ripping off and tossing to the side.

 _I get it now._

All the sudden his brain is screaming at him. Those fucking words over and over. The one's he hears whenever he fucking thinks about her. It can't be. It can't be. He knows that voice. He knows that anger.

The cold blue eyes that are darting from person to person send a jolt right through him when they finally pass over him. It can't be. She's dead. She's rotting away in the backseat of a car because they couldn't fucking give her the burial she deserved. She'd never made it out of Grady Memorial alive. He'd carried the body.

A sound that he's never heard another human make before tears from his throat. Sounds more like an animal than a man. He doesn't think, he just moves. Jerking forward. He needs to touch her, needs to feel her. Needs to be sure. He's seen her so many times that he just expects her to fade away like she always does, just like smoke. He'll touch her and she'll leave.

His fingers don't even skim her arm. Rick's calling out. Saying her name. That stops him dead in his tracks. What are the odds? What are the fucking odds they're all hallucinating the same damn thing?

She grabs Eric and he catches that flash. She's got a knife. She's terrified, she's shaking. It's fucking twisted but Eric ain't even his main focus now. He's just a person. A person with a knife to his neck, but still. May as well be a goddamn stranger. All he can see is her.

Her hand looks like it's liable to slip. That blade's gonna sink into his throat and he's not even thinking much of it. His brain isn't thinking about much at all. He can't think, doesn't even feel like he can breathe. He should step in. She's just still a little slip of a thing and he could do it, grab the knife and get Eric out of harms way.

He could but he wont. He can't.

The only person who does anything is the man with her. Raises his hand high in the air, he's got something clutched in it. Brings it down fast. The knife falls and she just drops like a tonne if bricks.

It's just like last time when one second she's standing, the next she's on the ground lifeless. He lurches forward again but there's an arm being held out to block his movement; keeping him in place.

"She isn't dead." The man growls. Sounding nothing if not vaguely annoyed, maybe even offended. "Should I have waited for ya'll to snap out of it?"

"Hand over the gun." It's not a suggestion. The man does it, too. No hesitation, just hands the fucking thing over. Eric sees his opening and he flies at Aaron. He should be happy. Should focusing on that but he can't. Just like the rest of them, he's looking at her. He could rip the guy's head off. No, he fucking should. "You're coming with us."

There's no dispute. He just crouches down and carefully gathers her up in his arms. "Leave the knife." Her head is tucked against his chest, arm stretched out. Lifeless. Just looking at the man he can feel the weight in his arms again. She looks dead. Just like the last time he'd seen her.

They take them to the cell and there'es no more talk about the girl. In fact, no one says word fucking one. They may as well be walking to the gallows. It'll be better once they're inside -that's what he tells himself. He'll see her in the light and he'll see that it isn't her at all. She's gonna be a nobody. He needs her to be a nobody. They all do.

He can see it in their eyes. Rick, Michonne. Even Tara and Rosita, they ain't ever even gotten the chance to know her when she was alive and they look like they've all see the same fucking ghost. His fingers are itching and he's not sure he can wait until they get back to the house. Something about this guy, this random fucking guy carrying her, after knocking her out. It isn't on so many fucking levels. Rick should have shot him just for that. Hurting her.

Then again. They're gonna walk through the door and see that it isn't her, so they would have shot him for nothing.

"Do you have anything else on you?" Rick's standing in the open doorway. The stranger, Mac or something, shakes his head as he sets the girl - Beth down. He keeps his back turned, focused more on her than on the small crowd of people who have gathered outside of the cell. "What are you doing?" Daryl sidesteps out of Rick's shadow to get a clearer view. Mac's removing Beth's jacket.

"I'm not armed but she is."

He pulls off her jacket and her boots. He wasn't kidding either. There's no other guns but there's an impressive collection of knives. "What the hell does she do with those?" Rosita hisses. Mac pauses, tossing a glance over his shoulder.

"You saw what she does with them. Usually, there's more blood."

 **xxx**

 _She. Her. Beth._

He doesn't want to leave the cell but no one wants to say word one in front of the strange man. She's still breathing, according to him. They're locked in - not going anyhere until Rick pulls the key back out.

"Daryl," Rick's voice is low, gruff. Rosita and Tara are taking watch. He doesn't want to turn away, he's not even sure he can. "Now."

He lets out a low growl and turns on his heel.

They're in the living room. Aaron and Eric taking up the couch. Aaron looks like he's not going to let Eric out of his sight for a second, the hold he has to have on his husband's hand looks downright painful.

"Are you sure?" Michonne is asking what they're all thinking. Asking again for the fifth or sixth time. Daryl has to bite his tongue to keep the bitter laugh from rolling past his lips. He'd likely forget his own name before he'd ever forget her face. What were the odds that someone with her voice, her eyes, and her scars would come rolling up right through their fucking gates?

The question goes unanswered. It doesn't need to be.

Rick's hands stray from the mantle that he'd braced himself up on. "You said she took you to the Kingdom?" Eric had explained it. She'd demanded to speak to Ezekiel himself. They knew each other, somehow. That doesn't fit. Carol was at the Kingdom, if Beth had been there - if she'd known she woulda said something.

Eric tells them that she had caught him out in the woods. She had been scoping the same area out. It's not just that coincidence, it isn't just that she knew about the Kingdom, Ezekiel. She knew about Hilltop. They'd gone to Hilltop.

"She saw Maggie?" Rick's quick to ask. There's a hope in his voice that, from where he's standing is completely unwarranted.

"We didn't meet with Maggie. She stayed inside, I think Carol was with her. Jesus was the one who came out to greet us."

It didn't matter who saw her because it wasn't her. No way in hell it was their Beth.

They go back and forth over and over. Eric tells the story, one of them mutters and shakes their head in disbelief. No one is in a hurry to go back downstairs. They're scared, he thinks. They all are. Daryl knows that he sure as shit is. Scared to go downstairs and face whatever-the-fuck that they've got locked up in that cage.

 _"And he's talkin' with Davy, who's still in the Navy_

 _And probably will be for life,"_

The words echo up the staircase as they're in the midst of discussing what to do about the people in the cage. Mainly, who will be going in because someone should check on her, she had been knocked out. Beth or not she needed to be checked to make sure that the asshole hadn't done any serious damage to her.

They all turn their heads towards the door as the words filter through the hallway.

 _"And the waitress is practicing politics_

 _As the businessmen slowly get stoned,"_

"The fuck is that?" He growls, irritated more than anything by the introduction. He already knows who it is.

"Go check on them. I'll be down in a minute." Rick cocks his head towards the doorway, frown etched into his brow.

He takes the stairs fast, boots thundering the whole way down. He doesn't mean to run, he doesn't make the conscious choice. Rick hadn't told him to rush, they had taken all of their weapons and they were secure. The thought of the girl is what spurs him on, that sets the pace for him. What if she had woken up? What if something was wrong with her? Maybe the asshole had hit her too hard.

 _What if?_

There's a lull in the song - he's pretty sure the guy is actually hum. That is until he pushes open the doorway. The guys got his arms through the bars, face pressed up against the wrought iron. No sooner do their eyes meet before he's belting out another verse.

 _"Yes, they're sharing a drink they call loneliness_

 _But it's better than drinkin' alone,"_

And smiling while he does it. Like his voice ain't annoying as fuck, like he isn't about to wake up the whole goddamn community. Save for the girl, Not-Beth, who is still slumped in the corner.

"Shut up, asshole." Daryl snarls as he advances towards the cage. The man doesn't continue, but that's about all he does. Some part of him hopes that the stranger will back himself into a corner or shrink away out of fear. A smart person would do something like that. The guy only smiles and shakes his head, like he hadn't just told him to can it.

"Not a big Billy Joel guy, are you? That song's a classic."

He's talking, but Daryl isn't listening. He's watching her. Even in the dim he can see that she's still out. Out, but breathing. Like the last time he'd seen Beth. Only he'd been too fucking stupid to pick up on the breathing part. Couldn't even find the damn pulse - because she was dead. Had her head blown open.

Only she didn't. "She's fine. She can take it, I wouldn't let anything happen to her." Daryl can't help but scoff at that proclamation, which, is clearly bullshit seeing is how he'd fuckin' pistol whipped her. "She's had worse." It's not quite dismissive, he says it in a more matter-of-fact tone than anything which Daryl instantly finds grating. "Hey, man. You mind not eyeballing my wife?" Just like that - he goes from annoyed to something else entirely.

Anger courses through his veins. The spark catches and roars through him, in his minds eye he can see himself grabbing the man by the neck and jerking him hard against the bars over and over. Wife. His wife.

His mind is struggling with the decision, whether or not Beth is alive and in the cell or decaying in the backseat of a car - but he's sure about one thing. More sure than he's been about anything in his goddamn life. That the word wife coming out of this fucker's mouth is just damn wrong.

The indecision is temporarily struck down by anger and the urge to strangle the man where he stands. All of the sudden she's Beth and she didn't belong to anyone, not ever. She was her own. Wasn't a soul in the world that had a right to lay claim to something like her, not a goddamn soul.

It's easy to shift his gaze to glare daggers at him instead. "I get it. She's pretty. Not a whole lot pretty left in this world." No, he thinks bitterly. Pretty isn't the word for what she is. The man quiets for a second and shoots a glance over his shoulder. "Who does she look like?"

The question is so sudden it takes him back. Daryl literally leans back on his heel and freezes. The man lets out a labored sigh. "You all looked like you were having a stroke when you saw her face. Looked like you saw a goddamn ghost."

Maybe that was because they fucking had.

His fists ball at his sides. Which, the guy seems to take notice off. There's something sympathetic in his gaze now. "It happens a lot. Aside from the whole -" He waves his hand over his face, Daryl only assumes he's trying to reference the scars. " - she looks like everyone's kid sister, or the best friend they had when they were eight, or somebody they went to highschool with. Usually she opens her mouth and does something stupid and they realize their mistake pretty quick." He adds thoughtfully.

Only this time, he's not so sure it's a mistake. It would be better if it was. Would be better if they were just all hallucinating or some shit. What was the alternative? That they'd left her for dead. They they'd left her behind. Defenseless, wounded, without supplies.

His brain jumps back and forth by the second. One second she's Beth, the next she isn't. As if it all wasn't infuriating enough. The man is staring at him expectantly, like he's waiting for a genuine answer. Daryl just snorts. Good fucking luck, buddy. The only thing he wants to say is that there's no way a girl like that would marry an annoying shit like him, only he can't.

That would just invite the guy to talk some more. Which was quite possibly the last goddamn thing he needed.

"Talking about it is cathartic." Daryl can feel his skin prickling. He can feel the rumble in his throat. It's a growl low and clear. He doesn't even think about it, make the conscious decision to snap around and all but throw himself at the bars. It has a desired effect, the man takes a quick step back. "Fine." He says, as if he'd just deeply offended him.

Without another word the man retreats back to the corner, sitting right beside her. Daryl's eyes narrow into slits. She's moving, groaning. Her eyes are still shut but her arm is shaking. This prompts the man to lean over and pull her closer.

It's so tempting to tear the goddamn door off its hinges and pull her away from him.

The only thing that keeps him from it is the sound of the door upstairs opening and closing, and Carol's voice cutting through the air.

 **xxx**

"Rick!"

She's panicked. Something's wrong. It's enough to pull him away, because it's Carol. The two are contained for now, and they weren't getting anything out of the girl until she woke up, anyways.

Carol's there. She's got Ezekiel's people with her. Including the one's that they'd found off the side of the road a ways, tied up in the back of the van. Eric and Aaron had gone back to the house to check on the other girl. Tara and Rosita had opted to head down to the cell. Nobody batted an eye on that when they awkwardly excused themselves. This didn't concern them. They didn't know her. To them, all Beth had ever been was a body.

Eric had been right, Carol had gone to the Hilltop. They'd picked the man up from there, and Alexandria had been their next stop. Only things hadn't gone to plan and they'd hijacked the van, otherwise they would have arrived at the same time.

"How long have you known?" There's an anger in Rick's voice that he ain't used to hearing, not when he was talking to one of his own.

Carol doesn't waver, she doesn't so much as blink. "Not long. Ezekiel met her first. I almost missed her, I was at the cottage when she first got there…" His head is spinning again. Ezekiel had met her. They could have known days ago. "His guards found a group of children out on patrol, she was with them. She tried to run and they took her in." Carol flinches, crossing her arms over her chest.

"She was with children?" Rick asks, cocking his head to the side. He's confused. Hell if they all aren't.

"Yes. They're at the Kingdom now. There was a second group but only two made it, they were headed to the Hilltop."

There's something about that, that immediately sends up red flags. "How sure are you they were just kids?" Daryl finally speaks up, voice hoarse. Kids could have been bait, or a distraction.

"They swept the woods. Didn't find signs of anyone or anything else."

Not good enough. "They could have cleared out, avoided the patrols."

Carol shoots him a look. A look that says he outta stop soundin' like he's about to challenge her because this isn't the time or place for it. "The only thing they found were the remains of the second group."

"Jesus," Michonne mutters. "The remains?"

The look on Carol's face is grim. Something about this has him feeling anxious, anxious and combative. "She brought the kids there but she didn't stay with them?" Rick, to his credit pushes on. He has to anyways. Nothing Carol's saying is clearing up any of this shit.

"She left by choice. Ezekiel tried to convince her to stay but she had no interest, he let her go."

 _Why didn't you tell us?_

He wants to march right up to her, get right in her face and demand an answer. He just doesn't have the balls to do it - Carol wouldn't put up with that sort of crap. She must sense it because she lets out a heavy sigh. "I didn't find out about her until she had already left. Even when he told me I wasn't sure. How could I have been? I watched her die. We all did." Something about her delivery makes him flinch. "I couldn't have rushed to you or Maggie without proof. The last thing any of us can afford to do right now is chase a ghost."

"But she ain't a ghost." He bites back. "We don't have some dead thing down in the cell." It's meaner than he'd meant it, but he can't help it. Not even a little.

A painful silence swept through the room. "It's really her, isn't it?" Michonne asks quietly.

Carol asks to see her. There isn't much more to say, she'd told them what little she knew. He can hear the asshole downstairs singing again. Rick must sense the fact that he's planning on going down there and shutting him up himself because he places a firm hand on his shoulder and gives him a look. The look, the one that says 'don't even think about it' before brushing past.

The room empties quickly. Carol hangs back, for whatever reason. She'd wanted to see Beth - so he can't figure out why she's just standing there looking at him like that.

"What?" It's harsh, defensive. It's him. That's probably why Carol doesn't even so much as roll her eyes. She gets it, gets him. She always had.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?"

"Thought you wanted to see the girl." Because he can't say her name, not out loud at least.

"I don't think she's going anywhere. Besides I thought it would be best if it was...just us." Fuck. He's not going to like it. Immediately he knows that he'd rather throw himself out the fucking window than be apart of whatever Carol's planned out. "It's about Beth." His teeth grit together, jaw locking into place. She waits a beat because she has to know from this point on, he's not gonna speak unless spoken to. Unless she drags it out of him. No one talked about Beth. Not outloud, certainly not to each other.

Her voice is calm, collected. Like it always is. "Do you know if she was pregnant?"

Fuck it if he doesn't choke on air. His eyes may well bug right out of his head. Pregnant? Beth? There ain't no way. "I know you two were on your own for a long time."

And what? What the hell is she trying to get at? That he'd knocked Beth up?

"I didn't do anything." Daryl shrinks away, bowing his head.

Carol's quick. She must pick up on it, what he thinks she's insinuating. "That's not what I meant," She says softly. "Before the prison fell, I know she had a few boyfriends. The man you have downstairs with her showed up at the Hilltop with a baby, he said that Beth was the mother." The thought makes his stomach drop like a stone. Beth and a baby. There's no way That Beth would ever let something like that happen, after they'd seen the risks with Judith? Jesus Christ, why is he even thinking about this? There's no way she would have been. Their girl had been smart.

She reaches for him, slender fingers wrapping around his fist that he's got balled so tightly his knuckles are turning bright white. "Come on, let's go."

Go see her, she means.

He glances up and towards the door through the curtain of hair that's fallen over his fast.

Go see Beth.

* * *

 **A/N:**

So that happened.

What do you guys think. Do I still have it? Should I never write a Daryl POV again? Should Mac audition for a ZA version of American Idol?  
I promise this will be the last time Beth is knocked unconscious again, for a long time, if not forever.


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note:** Oh boy. It's been a bit, longer than intended.

Thanks all for coming back to this! It's been over a year now since I kicked this thing off and I have so much more planned (and hopefully, more frequent updates!) and as always from the bottom of my heart - we wouldn't have a story if I didn't have an audience. You guys are what keep me coming back to this, what pushes me to work on this even when things aren't so great. Ya'll are the best 3

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Mac is the one who wakes her. At least the sound of his voice is enough, feels like he's towing her out of the fog. It doesn't all come back to her at once. The only thing she can really focus on, that takes over everything, is the pulsing pain in the back of her skull. The pain is all to familiar and not the first time she had felt it in the past few days. This time, she doesn't wake up tied to a hospital bed. No. She's in a cell.

As soon as that realization hits her the rest of the blanks are filled in almost immediately. Hilltop, the van, putting a knife to Eric's throat. The way they'd fucking looked at her. Out of instinct her hand slides down her back, between the thin of her shirt and the cool concrete walls. Her fingers curl around air. There's no sheath on her belt. There isn't even a belt to speak of. Her jacket's gone, as are her boots. Someone had searched her, taken her things. Which meant she was unarmed.

Mac was in a similar state of undress. Jacket gone, no boots. No gun, no sheaths. Nothing so far as she could see. Mac isn't alone, and because of that she's quick to return her hand to her lap and let her eyes shut. She's got no interest in talking and if she were awake someone might just take it as an invitation. Mac could handle the social aspect, he always did.

Beth listens silently from her corner. Mac's singing, then he's talking. Or more accurately: he's being a prick to whoever is on the other side of their cage. There's one sole point where she genuinely considers getting up, and it's when she hears the yelling. Someone calling out to Rick - the asshole who had locked them up she thinks ruefully. The voice is familiar. Whoever Mac is antagonizing must leave because he returns to her side and slips his arm behind her back. She damn near pulls away but he's pulling her own arm over his midsection, spreading her hand flat over his hip.

It's for show, sort of. She'd heard him say wife. It wasn't the first time and if they lived through this, it wouldn't be the last. Apparently physical closeness made the lie more realistic. It's not just that though, there's more. She can feel something long and hard. Immediately she understands. It's like in one of those games that Haley plays on the laptop back at the outpost. It's a holdout weapon, she's pretty sure that's what they're called. Internally, she feels herself bristling. It doesn't feel fair that he gets the weapon when she had been stripped of hers. She's faster between the two of them, and hand to hand was her specialty. Of course, she isn't the one who gets the knife.

She doesn't hear their captor leave, but she figures they're alone because Mac's talking. Whispering really, right into her ear in the way that she absolutely hates. Beth has to ball her fists to keep from driving her knuckles into his crotch.

"They're seeing ghosts." No shit, Beth thinks to herself. "You've got them shaken up - not just because she were going to slit that guys throat. That's our ticket out of here alive. If you can just not try to kill someone for five minutes, we might be able to get back."

Oh, if it wasn't for facade of sleep that she was trying to keep up, she would have growled. She's never done it without a reason, killed someone. What she had done to Eric had been justified completely. They had Haley somewhere in one of their picturesque houses and Rick had the audacity to screw with them - to deny them even after they returned one of his alive and relatively unharmed. He had been a means to an end, the same purpose his death would have served if it had come down to it.

She had never killed without a reason.

 **—-**

More come. The footsteps and whispering may as well have been a gunshot going off in their little cell, still she willed her eyes to stay shut. It's Rick, a few other people. Only one voice she really recognizes and it's the woman from the kingdom, that she's absolutely sure of. The one who had shown up at the cottage, the one she had almost shot. No one wakes them up or tries to speak with them. They just stand there and talk about them.

The woman being there was interesting. She was from the Kingdom, but from what she could hear, she spoke like she knew Rick personally and well. There was no mention of Haley or morning executions. Nothing to demand her immediate attention - what she was giving was already exhausting enough. For the time being they were safe. As safe as they could be at the hands and mercy of a man who had mercilessly slaughtered dozens of their people anyways.

The next time she hears voices, light is coming through the small window at the top of the cell. Mac is slumped against her, fast asleep. The woman is on the other side of the bars, standing there with her arms crossed over top of her chest. "How are you feeling?"

Beth blinks, and groans as she brings a hand up to wipe the remnants of sleep out of her eyes. She doesn't bother to give the woman a response. She's locked up in a cage like some animal, sleeping on a cold cement floor. Someone had knocked her out - she sure as fuck had seen better days. She doesn't press the issue, but Rick does."Can you walk?" Rick opts for another line of questioning all together. Beth tries her best not to snort. Of course she could walk. The fact that he was asking, that he almost sounded like he cared was laughable. At first she has no intention of entertaining him, doesn't really see why he needs an answer anyway. That is until he mentions Haley. Doesn't call her Haley, just 'the girl'. They can go see the girl now.

Hell yes she can walk. In fact they look surprised by how fast she springs to her feet.

Haley's alive. Haley's alive and unscathed, sitting at a kitchen table bent over a bowl and focused on shoveling the contents into her mouth at a worrying speed. Habits, if you didn't eat fast you didn't eat period. Haley doesn't seem to notice them at all. That's a little annoying, all the time they've spent working on her basic survival skills clearly, had been for nothing. In less than a day all her hard work had been undone. She looks way too comfortable.

Where humans often failed her, Beth found solace in the one thing she always could. Sadie. The flew out from underneath the table, very nearly knocking over a chair in the process. There's a flurry of fur and claws flying at her, an appropriate reaction she thinks. At least one of them is happy to see her. Haley can see them now, and she's smiling, but in no rush whatsoever to get up. She's clearly awake, Beth considers pinching herself for the briefest moment. It could be a dream - that could be why Haley seems perfectly content to be a captive in Alexandria. A captive of the man who had slaughtered an entire outpost. In case she had doubted her consciousness, Sadie is quick to remedy the problem as she nips at her hand, desperately trying to get her attention with a series of playful bits and high pitched barks.

"You're here!" Haley's quick to sign as she finally lifts herself out of her chair.

Of course they're here. Where the hell else would they be? To be fair, she supposes Mac is a surprise. Since she had more or less told him that he'd died. That had been a shock to her, too. Still she should have expected her. In a million years - she never would have willingly left the damn kid behind.

There's a small crowd gathered outside the door. Carol, Eric, and two others were crowded onto the front stoop, staring anxiously. Beyond them, Rick and the woman with the sword stood watch.

Mac gathers Haley up in a bear hug that looks like it has to hurt, but neither complain. Sadie is content to dance around the three of them. She doesn't move to embrace the girl. Not yet. Something still isn't right, and it should be. They'd brought them to the house - Rick had brought them to Haley and still it felt like a trap was about to slam shut.

She steps around the two of them, taking a mental inventory of what is set out on the table. A bowl half filled with oatmeal, which didn't look like much more than dog puke to her. Her sketchbook was laid out on the table, pencils strewn around it. She'd made herself at home. That wasn't a good sign, no way in hell should that have happened. She knew better. Why hadn't she gotten thrown in a cage like they had? Where was her gun? Her knives? Her belt, save for Sadie's leash, was noticeably absent. They must have taken them, just like they'd stripped her.

"Where's your bag?" Beth turns slowly, crossing her arms over top of her chest. "You should get your things. We're leaving." She doesn't see much sense in signing that, since just asking where the bag was has Haley's full attention. Her brow creases in a furrow as she looks towards the door. Haley only stares blankly. "Get your bag. Now." This time, she signs it.

"Tell them you don't want to stay." Beth plants her hands on her hips, voice firm. Haley mirrors her stance. She can see the defiance in her eyes. They won't let them drag her out, Rick had made that very clear. There's a small army waiting just outside the house to make sure that very thing didn't happen. They've got shit to do. Like leave, get as far away from Rick as they possibly can. The woman's there and she knows - she knows. She knows that they're Negan, the three of them. The others don't as far as she can tell. The give away being that they were still alive. That they hadn't been taken out of the cell and marched to the site of their seemingly inevitable executions. They needed to leave before the tides turned against them.

"It's safe here." And it's that silent declaration that causes her to go wide-eyed. In what goddamn universe was Alexandria safe for them? "They're people. Like you always said, they aren't monsters. They won't hurt me." That has her eyes flickering towards the doorway, where Carol and of the others stood watching the proceedings silently.

They're people, everyone in Alexandria. Everyone who aligned themselves with a Rick - they were as much born from flesh and blood as she was. It's disturbing how eager she is to stay. Where were the alarms bells going off in her head? Were there no blinding signs flashing 'danger' over and over again right before her eyes? The first thing she had ever taught Haley had been not to trust. The first goddamn rule of survival: You can't trust anyone.

It wasn't a perfect rule and like all rules it had its own exceptions. Over time and once they earned it, if they did, some could be trusted - deemed worthy. She had been within the walls of Alexandria for a day, almost two. Yet there she was painting the place with a rose colored brush.

Beth reaches out for her, fingers closing hard around her forearm. "Now, Haley." She whispers the warning as she pulls on her. Haley jerks, flailing as if she'd been hit. Beth Doesn't need to look to see that the trio who had been hanging in the doorway had moved into the house at the first sign of trouble. That was what it was, wasn't it? Trouble.

"You can't make me leave." Oh the hell she couldn't.

With each passing second Beth could feel the swell of emotion building inside of her. Anger, confusion, mostly anger. "There's nothing there for me anymore."

"You have a job!" It's Mac who finally decides to break his silence. Up until that point,it had been like he hadn't even been there at all. Haley's attention, and glare both quickly shift towards him. A job. What had her job been again? The children, that was it. Haley had spent every waking moment around the children. She'd slept in their quarters, taught them (as best she could, with the help of others - namely Luann) bathed them. She was the mother to dozens of children ranging from toddlers to pre-teens. Haley wasn't asking it but Beth could sense it. Everything about the way her eyes were narrowed at Mac posed the question flawlessly.

What job? They took the children. To the Hilltop and Kingdom colonies, they had taken them away. That fact that's hanging in the air in front of them - that they had rendered Haley useless in the eyes of the others in a few short hours seemed to break something then. Haley's no longer quiet.

"I wanted to go with you!" No. This isn't happening. They aren't having this conversation. Not here, not anywhere. "You didn't give me a choice." Haley's right, they hadn't. Hadn't asked if she wanted to go, hell they'd taken a few other kids about her age. The ones who survived were sitting in the lap of luxury in the Kingdom. There was almost nobody left, Haley would be one of the youngest at Gavin's outpost - at any of the outposts now. "I wanted to go!"

It dawns on her then. How stupid could she be. There hadn't been signs of a struggle because there hadn't been a struggle. How do you kidnap someone who chooses to go willingly? She'd thought that Rick was making it up – he had to be.

In the blink of an eye she's in front of the girl, arm thrown back and hand raised. The blow never hits, it doesn't get a chance to because Mac grabs her wrist and wrenches her backwards before she can slap her. Still Haley reels back as if she had been struck anyways, anticipating the blow.

'I knew you'd find me.'

She'd done it on purpose. In the back of her mind she can hear something whisper to her. I get it now. When those people had rolled up to the gas station she had gone to them - she had surrendered willingly, asked to be brought back. Asked to be taken away. "What was I supposed to do? Wait to die with you?" The girl's signing furiously, and choking out the words as she goes just in case her point isn't being carried enough by one language, she opts for two. Broken as it sounds. Beth can just barely understand either. "If we survived – what about me? Do I wait until I'm old enough to go back? So he can make me an offer? He'll take care of me and I won't have to work as long as I'm his?"

She can't. Fuck, her head is spinning. It's too much. This is all too much. Beth lunges again but this time Mac's arms lock around her midsection. She may be fast, but he's faster just this once. That doesn't stop her from trying to kick anyways. There's a sudden flurry of legs and boots that are desperately trying to land a blow, accompanied by a snarl that would make any wild thing proud. It's out of instinct that she tried to strike again, an attempt to silence the noise that's landing as blows. "We wouldn't have let it happen!"

"You don't say no to him. No one does. You know as soon as I turned eighteen he'd make the offer. You know it!"

"We-"

"You know what he would do if you tried to stop him. It wouldn't matter if you did stop him. They would all be the same."

They're all Negan.

Haley doesn't say that, she doesn't sign it but Beth can hear the words echo in her mind regardless. It doesn't need to be said. That's what she's getting at. She's a beautiful young woman who just so happened to have a hearing aid. Something that most people would assume would put her at a disadvantage. Wasn't right, wasn't decent, but that's the way the world was now. People would look at her and see someone useless - if she was lucky maybe someone would take pity on her and take her under their wing. Look after her, keep her point balance clean. She'd be a target, an easy mark. Because she would need someone wouldn't she? If Negan didn't take her as a bride in a couple of years, someone else would try to.

The room is considerably more crowded now. The group outside had flooded the area. Some look panicked, others confused. "What the hell's going on?" It's Rick who is barking at them now, a voice that Beth finds impossible to ignore.

"One of yours for one of mine." She tries to jerk away from Mac, whirling her head around to face the other man. "That was the deal." There's an instance where Rick looks lost, just a fraction of a second.

"We never made a deal." That's got to be bullshit, right? Isn't that some sort of unwritten rule these days? Trades like that? People, supplies? Doesn't matter what. "The girl's making it very clear that she doesn't want to leave." Who the fuck cares? Beth wants to yell out. She wasn't his girl, one of his people. Why the fuck did he care? Carol's sidled up to Haley, placing a hand on the girls shoulder. The girl who isn't trying to hide the fact that she's crying a goddamn river, she's actually shaking.

"She belongs with us. You don't have a claim on her." Beth snarls.

Haley can't handle words anymore, her hands are moving at a pace that once again she can't keep up with. "What's she saying?" Rick looks to her, then Mac. It's Carol who answers.

"She'll die." She looks down at Haley, as if asking for confirmation. "If she leaves she'll die."

Oh, she's had enough of this. They've protected her this far - why did she suddenly think they'd fail her now? Beth finally manages to wrench free. Why hell did she think she was safer here? When all of the Saviors were looking to burn Alexandria to the fucking ground. She is, apparently the only person who isn't falling for the tears.

 _"You can stay, too."_

It's simple, quick. Nothing before or after. It's a last ditch effort - if she gets them to stay then she doesn't have to leave, does she? Beth takes a step forward and everyone in the room tenses, from the corner of her eye she can see Rick and the rest twitch in anticipation, ready to jump in if need be. They can't stay. They won't be welcome here, not as soon as they find out who they really are. Beth doesn't think, she just acts. "It doesn't work that way." It's cold, calm. Something she has to force out from deep down. Her hand shoots out and wraps around Haley's forearm, jerking her forward as Carol's fingers dig into the girls shoulder as if trying to hold her in place.

Haley moves too. The free arm, the one that Beth isn't holding with a death grip. There's a flash of silver. She doesn't need to glance down because she can feel the cool metal pressed against her throat. Haley's not crying anymore, she's not pleading. She's staring at her wordlessly. In any other situation - she might have been proud. Where the hell had she gotten a knife from? How had she hidden it? Her reaction time was almost impressive.

Any other time.

It feels like she may as well have stabbed her. Like the knife blade didn't stop short on the delicate skin of her throat. Beth can't control the sick rage that's rising up like bile. How dare she . How fucking dare she pull a knife on her. It's exactly the wrong thing to say but Christ, she can't help it. "Go ahead. Do it. Over my dead body are you staying here." It's a dare, plain and simple. She won't do it. Haley's never killed before, not another person. It's a harsh reality that she's shielded her from, putting it off as long as possible. She's gutsy - but she's not gutsy enough. 

"Haley, put it down." Mac's pleading, like he thinks she could actually slide that blade across her throat. 

"No!" Any other time, she might have been proud.

"That's enough!" A hand reaches out and snatches Haley's and the knife away, and Mac once again takes a hold on her. Now she can focus on the others in the room. How the wild looking man is between them now, how Carol's grabbing the knife out of Haley's hands, how Rick's looking at her like she's absolutely insane. At least someone is in her corner, Beth thinks to herself as she feels Sadie brush against her legs. There's something comforting about the low growl that's cutting through the rest of the noise as Rick enters her line of sight. "No one's going anywhere. "Carol, take her upstairs." If there was ever a time to fight this would be it. Instead, Haley goes willingly without so much as another word, sign or otherwise.

It's smart. It really is. The knife, the outburst. Saying that she'll die. She's got to look desperate, if she looks desperate then maybe they'll let her stay, So far from where she's standing it's working.

"You're going back to the cell." Rick grabs her, and Beth tries to shake him off but his fingers tighten to a painful degree. The other guy, the one with the crossbow grabs Mac. Beth only manages one look as they're escorted through the door, for all she knows it could be the last time that she ever sees Haley. Maybe it's a good thing that the girl turns around to look at her then, too. The last thing she'll ever see is that little smile. It's small and sad but it's there. She'd won, she'd gotten her way. No way in hell are they gonna let them take her now. Not a goddamn chance after that display, the fact that she'd almost been willing to kill if it meant getting to stay. At least that's probably what they'd taken from that display. 

Yeah, any other time she might have been proud.

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 **A/N:** I apologize if this was a rough one to read. I was really, really excited to finally have an update for you. I just wanted to get it out there!

This is a big one plot wise. Dare I say huge. We find out that Haley willingly went with Aaron and Carl, taking the gamble that they were from Alexandria. She's doing what she was taught - looking out for herself because sometimes you just can't trust other people to do it. She's terrified and Beth very clearly wasn't about to do anything about it. If Beth cared, why the hell wouldn't she have moved Haley to either of the other colonies with the rest of the kids? Yeah. This is one of those scenes that NEEDED to happen, overly dramatic as it was. It's important for Beth's story, and it really cements Haley as more of a main character which I've always intended for her.

I know some people are gonna have some thoughts on this, and I know ya'll were hoping for some Beth and Daryl interaction. I PROMISE you that's coming!

As always thank you for reading. If you drop me a comment or hit that kudos button, you're the best.

I'll see you all soon!


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